


Legacy

by Jaye_Voy



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adult Content, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Voy/pseuds/Jaye_Voy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dream sends Chakotay on an unexpected journey</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> Written March/April 2002  
> (Reposted to AO3 because the character tags did not seem to be working.)  
> Although I've changed a few cringe-worthy phrases, the story's contents (and flaws) are mostly intact.
> 
> Originally part of the ChakotayFest, which paired Chakotay with random characters from various movies and TV shows.
> 
> Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager, Deep Space Nine and all related characters and concepts are the property of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for m/m sex.
> 
> Backstory: On Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Michael Eddington was a Starfleet officer turned Maquis spy. After he finally broke cover, he became a Maquis leader and a serious threat to the status quo. He was eventually captured and imprisoned by Starfleet. He later deceived his captors into taking him to a planet they thought held weapons they needed to destroy, but actually was the last sanctuary for the few remaining Maquis. Eddington died making sure the last of his people were saved from the Cardassian-Jem'Hadar slaughter. Among those rescued was his wife, Rebecca.

PART ONE

Chakotay finished loading the last container into the storage bay and exited, leaving the hatch open behind him. He stepped back to once more admire the graceful lines of the DreamCatcher. The small freighter had started out as a wealthy Ferengi's pleasure yacht, but gambling debts had brought the ship into Chakotay's hands.

The life he was about to embark upon was very different than what he had envisioned during those last days in the Delta Quadrant. Then, he had planned on staying with Starfleet. The only family he had left were his friends on Voyager, and Seven had been on her way to becoming much more than a friend. He had told the former Borg he always wanted to be within a transporter hop of her. 

Chakotay chuckled and shook his head at his naivete. He had forgotten to make sure that she wanted him there. After Seven became the darling of so many scientists and engineers, she abandoned her "irrelevant attempts to upgrade her interpersonal skills." The adoration of dozens of technical consultants won hands down over the company of a single man, especially one that so inconsiderately forced her to express emotions. 

He wasn't sure yet if he regretted never taking her to bed.

Seven's change of heart had left him at loose ends as the rest of Voyager's crew scattered to the four winds. Until he had a most interesting visitor. Starfleet's less-than-perfect security had allowed a padd of Chakotay's logs to fall into the hands of a savvy publisher. She'd been impressed enough to offer him a three-book deal that included profits from several associated holoprograms. His natural gift for storytelling soon landed him on the top of the best-seller lists. And on Starfleet's black list. Halfway through the unofficial dressing-down Chakotay had pulled off his newly replicated pips and walked out.

He'd just crammed all his worldly possessions into a couple of lockers at the spaceport when he'd encountered the soon-to-be-creditless Ferengi. A bit of accumulated back pay and the first book advance had easily covered the cost of the ship. After stripping and selling off all of the gaudy (and queasily pornographic) interior fittings, he was ready to go. But where? Chakotay stepped back aboard his new home and secured the hatch.

Quick strides took him through the nearly empty cargo bay, past the engine room, and up the aft stairs to the upper deck. Without all the gold and lurid fixtures, the DreamCatcher's gently curving bulkheads and sense of light and space were more Bajoran than Ferengi. He passed the galley, Sickbay, a lounge and four other cabins to reach his own suite near the compact bridge.

Entering the well-furnished space, Chakotay glanced at the unopened duffel bags laying in the corner of the living room. He continued through to the bedroom, kicked off his shoes and flung himself on the king-sized mattress. He lay back and soon succumbed to a restless sleep.

***********

Fog flowed around Chakotay as he strolled through the dreamscape. Vague shapes cast silhouettes against the mist as they drifted toward him. As they approached, Chakotay recognized the former Maquis he'd been contacting since his return to Federation space. They ambled past, completely oblivious to their old comrade. 

The last figure was Rebecca Eddington. Chakotay's chest tightened as he recalled his visit with the widow of his good friend. Although she seemed to have moved on with her life, they'd both shed tears as she recounted her husband's last hours. 

A barely familiar voice broke through the twilight, calling Chakotay's name. He moved toward the sound until he found himself in a tunnel. He saw a figure in the dimness, beckoning. "Come to me, Chakotay." 

Chakotay's brow furrowed in confusion. "Michael, where are you?"

"Come to me, Chakotay. You're the only one who can help."

"I don't understand."

"Please, Chakotay, hurry. I'm running out of time."

Chakotay sat up, shaking with a sense of urgency. He rubbed his hands down his face, trying to shake off the disturbing dream. He stumbled to the computer terminal on the desk and began punching up data. He scrolled through reports, stopping when his eyes alighted on a name. Altos IV. The last Maquis battlefield.

He rose from his chair, grabbed his shoes and headed for the bridge to begin pre-flight checks. He now had a destination.

*************

The silence of the deserted planet brushed at Chakotay's senses like a living thing. He was glad the corpses had somehow been cleared, but he could still sense death and despair clinging like lichen to the rough-hewn walls. When he reached a cavern that seemed vaguely familiar, he dropped to sit on the uneven ground and laid out his medicine bundle. 

As he entered the trance state, he found himself still in the cavern, but this time he was joined by another presence. "Hello, Old Man." 

Chakotay jumped and whirled, seeking the owner of the soft tenor voice. A smile bloomed at the sight of a tall man with elfin features. Chakotay closed the distance between them in a few strides and threw his arms around the slighter form. "Michael!"

Michael Eddington embraced his old friend, closing his eyes and laying his head on Chakotay's shoulder for long moments. He sighed and moved back to see Chakotay's face. "You look good for someone given up for dead."

Chakotay gave a sad smile. "I wish the reports had been as wrong about you." He gently squeezed the thin shoulders. "Michael, why am I here?"

Michael abruptly broke the embrace and paced, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I'm not at peace, Chakotay. Too many deaths weigh upon me." He stopped. "You don't know how bad things got at the end. The levels the Maquis sank to just trying to survive. We became like *them.*" He sighed and gave Chakotay a rueful look. "You wouldn't have let it happen, I know. But you weren't here."

"I'm sorry, Michael, I---"

"No, no, that's not what I mean." Michael laid a reassuring hand on Chakotay's arm. "I need you to do something for me, Chakotay. You're my last chance to set things right." He grabbed Chakotay's hand. "Come with me."

Michael began leading Chakotay deep into the maze of tunnels, pointing out symbols barely visible against the dark rocks. At a seemingly solid-looking wall, he tapped four spots precisely and stepped back. Light spilled out as a piece of the wall retreated, exposing a narrow passageway. The two men soon reached the light source, a tiny chamber throbbing with the hum of machinery. A stasis chamber dominated the room.

They halted before the clear-topped coffin. All Chakotay could see inside was a swirling mist. Michael turned to offer a pleading gaze. "Promise me, Chakotay, that you'll take care of him. That you'll see him safe."

"Who, Michael?"

"An innocent. A pawn the Maquis never got to play. The game is over, but he was never set free." Michael's eyes seemed to penetrate the fog still roiling under the transparent canopy. "We did what was right for us at the time. But I can't let him die alone and forgotten." 

With a shift his eyes burned into Chakotay's. "This is the Maquis' responsibility. And you, my friend, are truly the last of the Maquis."

Chakotay looked again at the stasis chamber, then turned to meet Michael's desperate eyes. "You have my word, Michael, I'll take care of...our legacy." Relieved, Michael urged him over to a control panel where most of the lights glared red with urgent warning. "Watch and remember, Chakotay. One key out of place and the whole system will crash."

Chakotay memorized the complex sequence of commands and heard the hiss of a broken seal as the canopy began to slide back. Michael drew him toward the chamber door and they embraced one last time. He laid a cool hand against Chakotay's cheek. "Thank you, Chakotay."

Chakotay's eyes opened to again see the shadowed cavern. He gathered his things and switched on a wristlight, diligently searching for the tiny carvings that would guide him through the tunnels. His steps grew more confident as he retraced the trail to the hidden chamber. Four sharp taps and he heard the groaning of long-neglected gears. The wall opened just enough for him to squeeze through.

A swift jog through the passageway and he was again standing before a mist-filled stasis tube. In reality the lights were dim as power was nearly exhausted. Chakotay moved to the control panel and began typing. He heard a pause in the faint background hum as the failing systems struggled to complete their programming. After several anxious minutes Chakotay was rewarded with the "all clear" sign. He slowly slid back the canopy and watched the wisps of vapor begin to dissipate, revealing a still figure on the narrow surface.

The slim body was as pale as chalk. Was Chakotay already too late? He reached in to check for a pulse when the eyelids snapped open. "Don't touch me!"

Chakotay reared back at the panic-stricken cry. He held his arms out, palms up, and soothed, "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." His eyes widened as the alien sat up and made to stand. 

It was like watching Michaelangelo's David come to life. Muscles bunched and released under bright white skin. The only hair on the slender frame were springy black locks almost bisected by two delicate ridges that ran from the top of the man's head to the corners of his strong jaw. His ears were simply slightly larger hollows than the others that decorated the ridges framing a classically beautiful face. 

Chakotay hastily brought his eyes up from an exploration of the hairless body to meet stunning aqua eyes. They searched his own with a combination of confusion and command. "Who are you?" the alien demanded.

"Chakotay. Who and *what* are you?" Chakotay snapped back, riled by the peremptory tone. 

"Why are you still in human form? Where are my attendants?" The unidentified man started to stand, but his legs immediately collapsed. Chakotay barely managed to catch the naked form before it sprawled upon the dusty floor. The moment his hands made contact with pale skin the alien started weakly thrashing, trying to break free of Chakotay's hold. "You're not one of us! Let me go! What's going on! Where am I? Where are my masters! Help! Help me! Let go! Let go!" The alien suddenly slumped in Chakotay's arms, unconscious. Chakotay hoped that the newly awakened man had simply exhausted himself; he wasn't sure his medical skills were up to stasis-induced health complications.

Chakotay laid the man back on the bed, quickly stripped to the waist and dressed the alien in his own tunic. After a quick fruitless search of the chamber for some clue to the situation, he hefted the unconscious man into his arms and began the long walk back to the DreamCatcher. As he made his way through the dim tunnels to his ship, Chakotay looked at the peaceful face resting against his shoulder and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

=====================================

PART TWO

The Ferengi who had commissioned the DreamCatcher was many things: self-styled entrepreneur, connoisseur of unusual decorative arts, incredibly unlucky at cards---and a paranoid hypochondriac. His fears had caused the starship to be equipped with some unusual features, including a state-of-the-art Sickbay.

Chakotay thanked the spirits for the Ferengi's forethought as he anxiously paced before a large comm screen set in the wall. At the other end of the open channel Voyager's former EMH pored over the transmitted diagnostic readings. 

"A clone? Are you sure, Doc?" Chakotay sent a dubious glance the hologram's way.

Distance did not diminish the EMH's aura of smug self-satisfaction one bit. "I am positive that your...guest...is a Vorta clone, native to the Gamma Quadrant. He's named Weyoun, or I should say, his other incarnations were." He settled back. "More to the point, the patient's vital signs are within acceptable levels. He is experiencing a normal recovery from sustained stasis." 

Chakotay moved to hover near the alien's---Weyoun's---still form. "Is there anything I can do?" His hands sketched a vague gesture over the biobed. "Either to wake him up, or make him more comfortable, or something?"

The EMH's eyes rolled. "I don't have that kind of information. It's not as though anyone has written a manual on this species..." The Doc's put-upon tone continued as he muttered under his breath, "What do you expect---'The Care and Feeding of Your Brand New Vorta'? 'Clone Contentment'?"

Chakotay briefly flirted with the idea of replacing every reference to "holographic doctor" with "self-aggrandizing pain in the ass" in his next book. He dismissed the fantasy with a shake of his head. "Is there *anything* you can tell me?"

The photonic man settled into lecture mode. "Well, from my scans, the Vorta are very similar to humans in almost all of their biological systems. There should not be any particular physical or dietary requirements." 

The Doctor glanced at the screens one last time and began typing. "I'm updating your computer with all of the information we have." He looked up at Chakotay. "This will be no different than any other convalescence. Give him a hydration and vitamin shot. Start out with liquids, soft foods, then progress to a regular diet. Provide assistance for bodily functions as needed, and wait at least a week before any of your typical life-threatening adventures." 

Chakotay raised an eyebrow. "Not that any of the crew ever bothered to follow *that* recommendation, right?" He swiftly loaded a hypospray and pressed it into the Vorta's neck.

He heard a muffled snort from the comm in reply. The Doctor's voice became suspiciously casual. "By the way, just how did you come by a stasis-held Vorta?"

"Um, I can't really go into that right now." Chakotay rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "And I'd appreciate it if this stayed out of your official logs."

The EMH heaved a frustrated sigh, then shrugged, "How can there be a record of a consultation when I never actually *saw* a patient?"

The two exchanged farewells, then the screen went dark as Chakotay turned to contemplate his "guest."

The temporary nurse sighed and briskly gathered supplies for a sponge bath. As he removed the coverlet and began to clean the snowy skin, Chakotay tried to maintain an appropriate air of clinical detatchment. He washed the face and graceful neck, then laved the sleek muscled limbs, taking extra care with the delicate hands. He started on the smooth torso with long strokes, absently noting the slightly mauve tint to the nipples and completely hairless cock and balls. 

Chakotay rolled the unconscious body and quickly sponged the graceful back and legs, hurrying over the firm buttocks. A gentle rubbing with a soft towel brought no response from the patient, so Chakotay checked the monitors once more. Now that he knew what was normal for a Vorta, he reassured himself that this was, indeed, just a deep sleep. Chakotay debated with himself for a few more minutes, then wrapped Weyoun in his own robe and carried him down the hall to lay him on the large bed in the captain's cabin.

He sat for a moment and gently ran his hand through Weyoun's black hair. The springy texture sent him back to his childhood and the soft-fleeced sheep on his uncle's farm. He sighed, "How in the world did you end up with the Maquis, my sleeping friend?"

After making sure Weyoun was securely tucked in, Chakotay quietly left the room to check up on the ship's systems.

*****************

The Time Before was always like a dream, indistinct. Who he'd met, what he'd done, all he had learned only coalesced at the moment of Becoming. When the voices of the Ever-Changing sounded without and within, reaffirming his purpose and his place. He served, as all his people did. As he had done all of his lives, merely an instrument of the Founders, his gods.

Until now. 

Something had interfered with the transference and awakening. Information had come, as always, but the memories brought confusion. And the only voice he had heard in his head in the first moment of consciousness was his own.

Weyoun opened his eyes to a ceiling decorated with delicate moldings. He let his gaze roam about the spacious room. The stars streaking past the viewports confirmed that he was on a ship moving at low warp. The comfortable furnishings and lack of personal effects offered no hints to his location or situation.

He turned attention to himself. He felt weaker than usual. In the past he had roused and immediately thrown himself into whatever task the Founders demanded of him. At the moment, Weyoun doubted his ability to even make it across the room.

An unfamiliar scent permeated his reverie. The subtle combination of spice and sweetness seemed to emanate from the soft robe covering him, but he also detected a faint echo from the bedding.

The luxuriant fabrics teased his skin. The unusually rich textures and scent made him uneasy; the Dominion was not known for coddling its servants. And despite the power he wielded for the Founders, Weyoun knew he was nothing more.

Strange images suddenly flashed before his mind's eye. A small room, a dark man coming towards him. Hands touching him. Touching him! Weyoun clutched the strange garment tighter to his frame and shuddered. It was forbidden. Even his attendants were careful never to make contact.

Someone had dared lay hands on him. And yet, the touch had not been unpleasant, but gentle and warm. So warm. Weyoun wished he could recall more, but the memories stayed hazy.

He scrambled to sit up at the whoosh of an opening door, but his sudden breathlessness was not the result of his exertions.

A stranger strolled into the bedroom with an air of easy confidence. He moved with a fluid grace that seemed at odds with his powerful frame. The face had a rugged handsomeness heightened by deep brown eyes and an odd tracing set on one side of a wide brow. Weyoun continued to study his visitor, whose gaze was focused on a tray carried carefully in strong capable hands. Familiar hands. 

Chakotay paused in his mental inventory of medical supplies to check the unconscious man on the bed. He felt a jolt as he met the blue-green gaze he'd only glimpsed on Altos IV. He broke into a relieved smile. "Welcome to the land of the living."

Weyoun's breath caught again as delight brightened the intriguing face. There was no way this man was a reconfigured Founder. The reminder of his people's gods---and his responsibilities to them---shocked him out of his daze. He mentally berated himself for his foolish distraction and felt his own features settle into the arrogant mask of command. "Who are you and where are my usual attendants?"

Chakotay felt himself bristle in reaction to the Vorta's sneer, but the sight of pale fingers nervously twisting the sheets gave him pause. He consciously relaxed and offered a friendly grin. "I think we've already had this conversation." He set the tray on a bedside table and held out a hand. "I am Chakotay, owner of the light freighter DreamCatcher, and your current host."

Weyoun dismissed the welcoming gesture with a quick pang of regret. "Why am I on your ship, human? Has the Dominion finally brought your Federation to heel?"

Chakotay dropped his hand and allowed his voice to cool. "On the contrary, the Dominion has been sent back where it came from. The Cardassians turned on their temporary masters, and Starfleet and its allies finished the job." He paused. "Years ago," he added more gently.

Aqua eyes blazed with desperate denial. "You lie! The Dominion is invincible. I command thousands of Jem'Hadar warriors. Cardassia is a conquered planet and---" He pressed his temples under the assault of conflicting memories. "---and I have to keep the rest of the worlds from falling. It has to stop. I told Odo...I tried to tell him...I---"

Chakotay sprang forward at the younger man's distress. "Easy," he soothed, "I know it's a shock." He laid a comforting hand on a slender shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" In a surge of panic, Weyoun flung himself away from the touch that seemed to race along his nerves. He stumbled then swayed, gripping the back of a nearby chair to stay upright. His chest heaved as he struggled with confusion. His mind seized on a new suspicion even as he knew it clashed with the sympathy he could see in the dark eyes watching him.

"This is some sort of trap. You're holding me for ransom, or you want me to help you destroy the Founders." Weyoun gave a bitter laugh. "You'll be disappointed. The Dominion considers hostages dead the moment they are taken. And I will tell you *nothing*!" he snarled.

"I haven't done anything except try to help you." Chakotay retorted. "Look around you; this is hardly a prison. And I can easily prove everything I've said is true." He was surprised how urgently he wanted to ease the upset soul. "I don't know what happened to you or why, but there's nothing to gain from holding you captive because there is nothing left of the Dominion. At least, not here." He gestured toward the bed. "Please, Weyoun, lay back down before you fall down." 

Weyoun's trembling was due more to fear than fatigue. Somehow he believed this dark stranger, but what a terrible truth: He was alone in the hands of an enemy. Worse, Weyoun had failed, utterly and irredeemably. He would never again be welcomed among his people, or into the presence of the Ever-Changing. He served; he obeyed. He had no other life. There *was* no other life.

Chakotay felt a sick twist of fear in his gut as he watched Weyoun attempt to sort truth from suspicion. The sea-spun gaze turned inward, then seemed to settle into an eerie calm. The hair on Chakotay's nape began to prickle in premonition.

Weyoun looked at the man before him and again felt the keen slice of regret. He let the mask of arrogance drop with an exhausted sigh. Strangely enough, at this last moment he thought not of the Founders he'd served for years, but of a brief encounter with a stranger. With...Chakotay. 

"It would seem my time is over." Weyoun said quietly. "Whether I am a hostage or a refugee, my orders are clear: Self-Terminate. A single thought and my implant will release a neurotoxin for which there is no antidote. Good-bye, Chakotay." He closed his eyes, frowning in concentration.

Chakotay opened his mouth to protest, then recognized the futility of the gesture. He felt the sting of tears for the loss of life as he waited helplessly for the end.

Weyoun's eyes flew open in shock. He didn't feel the burn of poison or even the mental click of the implant's presence. This last shock opened a yawning chasm of confusion and despair and he helplessly fell into it. Screeching "What have you done to me!" he leapt in attack, slim hands curled into claws.

Keen reflexes shifted Chakotay to the side, then behind Weyoun as he grabbed the wildly swinging arms. Tightly hugging the struggling figure, he tried once more to soothe. "Nothing, I swear. Just calm down, we'll figure it out. You'll be fine. I promise, I promise." When the body in his arms continued thrashing, Chakotay dragged them both toward the bedside table and risked one hand in a search for a hypospray. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he injected a sedative.

When Weyoun slumped in his arms, Chakotay returned him to the bed and gently settled the curly head back on the pillows. He stroked one finger along each of the delicate ridges framing the beautiful face, once more relaxed in sleep. 

Chakotay's own features radiated grim determination as he decisively stood up and headed for the bridge. He needed answers and he needed help. And he knew exactly where to get both. 

***********************************************************************  
***********************************************************************

"This is the life." Gregor Ayala stretched his long frame towards the ceiling in an arc of satisfaction. He lowered his arms and grinned at Geron Tem's appreciative perusal.

"No argument here, lover." The slim Bajoran lazed in the chair at the DreamCatcher's Conn and watched Ayala saunter across the bridge, pausing at each empty station to check readouts. He leaned forward for a better view of his lover's snug derriere. "This ship practically flies itself."

Ayala ran an eye over the Engineering stats, turning slightly to see if Geron would follow. He was rewarded with a startled "Oof" and the sight of his beloved deliciously sprawled across the carpet. "I could have told you you'd fall over if you kept gawking like that."

Geron grinned and performed his own stretch, watching Ayala's brown eyes darken further in response. "What makes you think I was really surprised?"

Ayala shook his head and offered Geron a hand up. "No way, querido. We're being paid here, quite handsomely I might add. And Chakotay's counting on us."

Geron ran delicate fingers along the edge of Ayala's shirt. "I know, but how much is there to do, really. We're on autopilot, the sensors will signal any oncoming obstacles, the engines are in great shape and Chakotay's asleep."

Ayala slid one hand down Geron's slender back to firmly cup his ass. He delivered a quick pinch. "*And* we have to keep an ear open for anyone answering the messages Chakotay sent about our mysterious shipmate. I think he contacted every Maquis in comm range."

"Every non-Voyager Maquis, you mean." Geron's scrunching face emphasized his nose ridges. "I can't help feeling we've all been kept in the dark. They fought a war---and lost---but nobody will talk about it."

"I don't know, Tem. Maybe it hurts too much to remember. We lost so many people..." Ayala sighed. "We'll probably never know what happened. Anyway, no sex on the bridge." He ended his message with a small smack as he pushed Geron back to his station.

Geron gave a quick wiggle and settled back at the Conn. "The Cap should be up soon, anyway, and I for one would hate to be interrupted." He looked at the viewscreen a moment, then sent a sidelong glance Ayala's way. "He seemed awfully eager to get back aboard."

"I'm not surprised. This Weyoun guy was ready to kill himself from what Chakotay said. He probably didn't want to leave him alone too long." This time Ayala delivered a speculative glance. "You think there's more to it?"

"Well, he practically begged us to join him." Geron shook his head with a laugh, "Like it's a chore to take a jaunt across the quadrant in a luxury cabin on a top-rate ship---complete with gourmet chef."

"You said it." Ayala gazed a moment at the passing stars. "He hasn't looked at another man in years----since Kurt Bendera died."

"I know, but I'd like to see him happy after all he's done for us." Geron heaved a dramatic sigh. "Besides, I hate to think of such a gorgeous hunk of man just going to waste."

Ayala snapped to attention. His eyes narrowed. "You just keep your mind on your *own* man, Mister."

Geron just chuckled.

*********

Warmth. Safety. Peace. And that tantalizing scent, stronger this time. As strong as the arm firmly wrapped around his waist.

Weyoun bolted upright, freeing himself from the unfamiliar hold. He'd barely had time to turn and look at his erstwhile captor when a barked "Computer, lights!" left him blinking in the sudden brightness.

Chakotay regarded his bedmate with a level stare. He was glad the Vorta had slipped into a normal sleep after the sedative wore off, since Chakotay himself had sorely needed some rest. 

He had sent dozens of secure queries about Altos IV to his Maquis contacts, then sped to the resort where Geron and Ayala were vacationing after finally leaving Starfleet. He'd been surprised to learn that his own resignation had a domino effect. Former crew who were dissatisfied in Starfleet saw his departure as permission to admit they too preferred their independence. 

Chakotay couldn't read the Vorta's aqua eyes, but he knew his own expression needed to be deadly serious. There was a life at stake. "Let me make this perfectly clear. You will *not* be committing suicide aboard my ship."

Automatic defiance set Weyoun's shoulders as he glared. "Do not think you can dictate to me, *Chakotay.* I do not take orders from anyone, especially an arrogant human who does not know his place."

Chakotay felt the stirrings of desire as the comely alien crossed his arms in emphasis. Damn, but he was attractive when he got fired up. Those bright eyes sparked and temper warmed the pale cheeks.

Weyoun felt more alive than he could ever remember. His whole body tingled, but he wasn't sure whether it was reaction to the demands or Chakotay's proximity. Weyoun was sorely tempted to lean in ever so slightly so he could once more bask in that beckoning heat.

Chakotay forced his mind back to the task at hand. "I know my place very well indeed, Weyoun. At your side. Practically in your pocket. Until I'm convinced you're not a threat to yourself or anyone else on this ship, we're going to be joined at the hip." He leaned back with a studied casualness. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer the alternative."

The Vorta didn't trust this "option" one iota. "What?"

Chakotay leaned forward before Weyoun could draw breath. "I'll keep you chained to this bed. You'll be fed your meals and subjected to a rigorous regimen of physical therapy." He played his trump card. "Be warned, I'm a very 'hands on' type of guy in that situation."

Weyoun couldn't respond. Not with such a dry throat, caused by either trepidation or anticipation. Shocked accompanied his body's excited reaction to the images described by that husky voice. This was supposed to be a threat?

Deciding not to beard the lion in his bed, Weyoun gave in with hidden relief and obvious annoyance. "Very well. I'm sure your vigilance will slip and I'll be free soon enough."

Chakotay leaned close to the hollowed ear ridge. His breath caressed it as he whispered silkily, "Oh, I wouldn't count on that."

Weyoun shivered as the hot blast of air touched him. He cleared his throat nervously, only relaxing when Chakotay moved away to stand up on the other side of the bed. He absently noted how well the silky black pajamas set off the bronze skin. He jerked his eyes up to meet Chakotay's when the other man stopped in front of him. He too had relaxed and now offered a small smile.

"Another choice for you. Do you think you can walk to the bathroom with my help, or should I carry you?"

Those strong arms looked like they could easily handle his weight, but Weyoun didn't know how he'd react to such close contact. "I can walk," he said stiffly and swung his legs to the floor. He made sure the robe was secure before levering himself up. He was grateful for Chakotay's hand as the room spun dizzily for a moment. When he tried to pull away, his companion just slung an arm around his waist and they began to walk. Joined at the hip indeed.

Chakotay was in full medical mode as he carefully watched for any sign of weakness in the younger man. After that first moment he seemed stong enough, but Chakotay was reluctant to relinquish his hold.

They reached the spacious bathing chamber and Weyoun was stunned by its trappings. A huge tub graced one side of the green-tiled space, while the sonic/water shower stall looked like it could easily accommodate three or four. One double-basin sink took up more wall space, while a single model could be seen through a doorway to the other facilities. Chakotay sat him on the stool in front of a mirrored vanity.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" Chakotay said with a grin. "Now, there aren't any sharp objects laying around, so don't get any ideas. I'll be right back." He then disappeared into the "water closet" and shut the door.

Weyoun studied his reflection as he ran a hand along the mirror's gilded edge, but he wasn't seriously contemplating a way of breaking it. He surprised himself with how quickly he had chosen to live---and how much his beguiling "guardian" had to do with the decision.

Chakotay was soon at his side and helping him to the same facilites. Weyoun too quickly finished and returned to the bathing chamber. Where he stopped in shock.

The large tub was more than half-filled with steaming water, and Chakotay was half-undressed. The muscles in the wide back flexed as the older man laid out supplies on a tray bridging the water.

He looked over his shoulder to see Weyoun. He quickly returned to the Vorta's side and began leading him forward. "Your bath awaits."

Weyoun pulled away. "I don't think so." His chin tilted. "We do not indulge in such frivolous luxuries." He gestured to the shower stall. "A sonic cleansing will do."

"Not until you're more steady on your feet and I've got some solid food in you. There's too much of a chance you'll experience dizziness." Chakotay crossed his arms with a casual air. "Unless, of course, you're willing to share."

"No, no, the bath will be fine." Weyoun hoped he didn't sound as flustered as he felt. As Chakotay reached for the belt of the Vorta's robe, Weyoun stepped back and clutched the garment to his throat. "You first."

"I'm not getting in with you, Weyoun. I just thought I'd wash your hair."

"Agreed. But a wise man never makes himself more vulnerable than his opponent. So strip."

Chakotay swallowed and sent a quick prayer to the spirits that he could control his body's responses. He quickly undid the tie and let his pajama bottoms drop. Casually kicking them in a corner, he offered Weyoun a hand into the deep tub.

Weyoun reminded himself to breathe as a new sensation---desire?---uncurled in his belly. His eyes traced the planes and curves of the powerful body in front of him. He noted the small brown nipples setting off the muscular chest, and the curious dark patch of hair at the human's groin. He felt an absurd desire to run his fingers through it and discover if the texture was wiry or soft. He then thought that while he was down there he should do a little more exploring.

Weyoun turned his back to Chakotay, dropped the robe and quickly settled into the steaming water. He hoped that the other man wouldn't see his unprecedented erection, or would just assume the heat of the bath was its cause.

Chakotay hastily dropped to his knees on the thick rug beside the tub and reached for the shampoo and a bowl for water. As he began wetting and cleansing the dark locks he debated pressing against the side of the tub in hopes the shock of cold marble would dampen his arousal. Now that Weyoun was awake, Chakotay was having a hard time reminding himself that he was only the Vorta's temporary protector. The sight of the smooth, lightly muscled form had wreaked havoc with his intentions to stay detatched. Even the fact that the man was only a few days old didn't seem to be a deterrent, for Weyoun's mind was sharp and clear and his body equally mature. And mouth-wateringly beautiful. 

Weyoun luxuriated in the warmth and the gentle massage of talented fingers. He sighed and relaxed into the new sensations. 

Chakotay hoped conversation would take his mind off the body gleaming under the rippling water. "So, what would you like for your first full meal? I don't have any Gamma Quadrant recipes, but I'm pretty good at all the Alpha cuisines---except Klingon."

Weyoun tensed. "Vorta do not eat. We consume liquid and capsule supplements designed to deliver optimal nutrition."

"You sound like a friend of mine." Chakotay was pleased to feel nothing but amusement at the memories of Seven. "She learned to enjoy food---eventually. You will too. But I don't understand why you wouldn't eat; our digestive systems are nearly identical." 

Weyoun hesitated, then admitted, "It was forbidden."

"What?" Chakotay moved to see Weyoun's expression, and felt a surge of sympathy at the mixture of bravado and uncertainty he saw there. "Why would anyone forbid you to eat?"

Weyoun dropped his eyes. "Vorta are forbidden all forms of 'stimulation' by our creators---the Founders." His monotone echoed the reciting of a lesson. "All mental energies are to be devoted to duty. To the survival and success of the Dominion. The senses are mere distraction." He took a breath. "I hated visiting Terek Nor," he blurted.

Chakotay's voice was soothing, as was his renewed touch on Weyoun's scalp as he returned to his original position. "Deep Space Nine, why?"

Weyoun shrugged. "Because it was all possible temptations in a single place. The sights, sounds, smells, flavors---so overwhelming." His voice turned bitter. "Until the Dominion changed it. Until *I* changed it. Into someplace dark and dull and cold."

Chakotay chose that moment to thoroughly dunk Weyoun to rinse off the soap and shampoo. As the sputtering Vorta came up dripping and indignant, Chakotay grabbed the pale shoulders. "Listen to me. *You* didn't do those things. And your people were victims as well. Don't you see what your beloved creators did to you? They turned you into ghosts. No joy or color or texture to your life. No feeling." 

He squeezed the wet skin. "They tried to make you into shells that lived only to serve them." He shook the Vorta in a blast of anguished fury. "And you want to *die* for them?" He flung the man away and began to stand, desperate to escape his own roiling emotions. He whirled at the sound of a sob.

"No!" Denial, despair, recognition of all the wasted years flooded Weyoun. Overwhelming everything was the fear of losing something he wanted and needed but didn't understand. "Please," Weyoun said, reaching for the solid body. The shock of their naked chests meeting was swamped by the feeling of comfort in the embrace. He leaned over the edge of the tub and pushed his face into the older man's neck, burrowing into the warmth and now-familiar scent.

Chakotay rocked the trembling man, hugging him tightly and whispering reassurances until the storm passed. After several long minutes he pushed Weyoun back and searched his face. "Are you OK?"

Weyoun felt drained, but strangely light and free. "I---I think so."

Chakotay lightly gripped the back of the pale neck. "I'm glad you've decided to stick around, Weyoun." His grin of relief was dazzling. "Again, welcome to the land of the living. Let's eat." 

***********************************************************************  
***********************************************************************

"Mmmmm...Chakotay, it's criminal you let Neelix be Voyager's cook." Ayala sopped up the remains of his sauce with the last bit of his fresh-baked roll. "You're lucky he didn't find his way out an airlock just to force you in front of a stove."

Chakotay chuckled. "I had better things to do than figure out a hundred different ways to serve leola root. Besides, once Neelix toned down the spices, his food wasn't half bad."

Geron stacked his plates, then leaned toward Weyoun with a conspiratorial air. "You really should try some Bajoran dishes. The Maquis still talk about the time Chakotay made pali nabotash. It has to be tasted to be believed."

"Thanks, Geron, but if you want some just use the replicators." Chakotay stood and gathered the dishes, leaning down on Weyoun's other side. "He neglected to mention that it has to be made by hand. And that it takes a solid day to do it." He walked behind the galley counter to place his burden inside the sonic cleanser. He moved to the stasis unit. "Dessert's coming up."

Geron lowered his voice and sidled closer to the silent Vorta. "He'd do it, you know. If you asked him."

Weyoun had spent the last few days developing a tentative friendship with his new companions, but was still uncomfortable enough with casual contact to shy away a little. While his previous incarnations would have snapped a cutting response to the Bajoran's impertinence, he offered an uncertain smile. "I don't think that's a good idea. Chakotay's working on some difficult chapters right now." 

"Exactly. He could use a break." Geron seemed struck by a sudden idea. "And you could keep him company---take dictation so he could work and cook at the same time." The Bajoran was all wide-eyed innocence as he made the suggestion.

Chakotay sent Ayala a look from where he was pouring melted chocolate over fruit-filled dessert bowls. Greg simply shrugged and raised his eyebrows with an expression that clearly asked, "What do you want from me?"

Chakotay made his way to the table and set down the tray with a decisive click. "Geron, we'll be meeting Ro Laren on Bajor in two days. Surely you can wait that long for pali nabotash. By the time I finished slaving over the ingredients, you could buy some ready-made in dozens of shops in the capital city."

Weyoun's blue-green gaze sought his host's. "She was a Starfleet officer, right? You think she'll know what happened to me?"

Chakotay sank back into his seat and handed out bowls and spoons. "I'm not sure, but she's the only one who was even willing to talk to me." He shook his head sadly as he snagged his own dessert. "I don't understand it. They all were so happy to see us when we got back, now I can't get a hold of anyone."

Weyoun laid a sympathetic hand on Chakotay's arm, and felt the familiar tingle of attraction as he was rewarded with a smile of thanks. The two men had begun a delicate dance of courtship, and neither had even broached the idea of Weyoun moving to his own cabin.

In truth, Weyoun had gotten comfortable waking up in Chakotay's arms, and sitting together either talking or working on their projects. Chakotay was starting his second volume of Voyager stories, while Weyoun was catching up on events of the last few years.

He felt a near-overwhelming surge of anticipation whenever the two of them touched. And while he enjoyed getting to know Ayala and Geron, he very much wanted to spend more time alone with Chakotay. He also wanted more from Chakotay, but wasn't sure exactly what or how to ask for it. He sometimes thought he saw desire in the dark gaze, but nothing ever came of it. Weyoun sighed and turned to his dessert, savoring his first taste of chocolate. He thought it appropriate that the rich confection matched the deep warm color of Chakotay's eyes.

Chakotay tried not to watch the way that Weyoun's cupid's-bow mouth opened to accept each new bite of coated fruit. A smear of chocolate made a sharp contrast beside that tempting portal, and Chakotay was fighting a desire to clean the cloud-white skin. With his tongue, which would then make its way between those tantalizing lips to finally discover the sweetness within. 

He'd been dreaming about it. Passion and tenderness and concern and caring all wrapped around each other in his mind and heart. He didn't know how much longer his control would last. Each day he woke and stared at Weyoun's sleeping face, grateful for whatever kind fates had set their paths to cross. He hoped that soon they could settle the mysteries in the Vorta's past. Chakotay was hoping more and more for a place in Weyoun's future. 

The lights in the snug galley suddenly flickered and turned amber as a sexy female voice purred, "Warning. Cloaked vessel on intercept course detected within sensor range. Speed Warp 7, ETA five minutes."

"Damn it!" Chakotay snapped as the four men leapt from their chairs and ran for the bridge. "I hoped the enhanced sensors would give us more warning than that."

Ayala looked at his grim-faced friend as the bridge doors opened. "You should be grateful, Chakotay. Most Federation vessels can't detect a cloak until a ship starts firing on them." He turned right to reach the tactical station and began tapping keys. "Weapons charged and ready."

Geron slid into the centered pilot's seat and glanced back over his shoulder. "Evasive maneuvers?"

Chakotay made a sharp left to the Ops board and waved Weyoun toward the Engineering station at the back of the bridge. "No, we'll just increase shields. We don't know if they mean us any harm---yet. And if they do, I want to know who's after me and why." He started buckling his seat's emergency restraints. "And strap in, everybody. This could be a bumpy ride."

"Maximum power output available, all readouts showing green." Weyoun double-checked the reports, grateful that the other men had taken the time to introduce him to the DreamCatcher's systems.

Chakotay scanned the sensor readings. "It looks like they're practically on a collision course. Drop out of warp, Geron. I don't want to take the chance of plowing right into them." 

Geron's voice was filled with frustration. "I can't see anything out there." He was keeping a careful eye on the sensor schematic taking up one corner of the large viewscreen. At least it *showed* the oncoming ship, even if it was just a blip on a grid.

Chakotay punched in a few commands, trying to pierce the other vessel's camouflage. "Damn cloaks make everything so vague. I can't tell if we're dealing with Cardassians, Ferengi, Romulan---"

"Unknown ship dropping out of warp---incoming phaser fire!" shouted Ayala.

The lights didn't even flicker as the shots were absorbed by the DreamCatcher's shields. The three ex-Voyager officers also appreciated the absence of sparks and smoke, courtesy of the surge suppressors Chakotay had installed. 

"Whoever they are, they don't have to drop the cloak to use their weapons." Chakotay grimaced in frustration. "Weyoun, send them a 'cease and desist' message." Chakotay swiftly adjusted the viewscreen to give more space to the sensor schematic. The blip became a large ball marked with a few glowing points. "Okay, I've extrapolated from the phaser trajectories to inside the cloak. Hopefully those points are the weapons ports. Greg, Geron, let's see what this baby can do." 

The lovers worked in tandem to turn the DreamCatcher from passive prey to sleek hunter. Since coming aboard Geron had reveled in the chance to fly again after being stuck in Voyager's science division for so long. He was glad he'd taken the opportunity to occasionally turn off the autopilot and put the DreamCatcher through its paces. Under his hands the supple freighter moved like a fighter, darting in to strike at their unseen enemy.

Ayala wielded the vessel's impressive armaments with all the skill he had honed in the Maquis and at Voyager's weapons console. He constantly adjusted the phaser harmonics, seeking the frequencies that would best cut through their opponent's cloak and shields. 

The DreamCatcher shuddered slightly as a new bombardment began. "They're firing photon torpedos. Shields 80 percent." Ayala snapped, while Weyoun's light voice reported, "Power levels stable, but I'm reading a temperature rise in the starboard phaser banks. I'll bring some of the secondary conduits online."

Chakotay began swearing as the schematic showed a stream of small stars trailing from the unidentified vessel. "Tem, watch out! Those look like multi-phasic mines. We get caught in the middle of them we'll be trapped in a firestorm."

The inertial dampers struggled to keep up with Geron's course changes as he avoided the new obstacles. Occasionally the system lagged and the men were tossed against the chairs' restraints or pressed into to the padded backrests.

Ayala never lifted his eyes from his screen. "I think we've knocked out the phaser banks, but those torpedos could overload our shields."

"I'll transfer power from the cargo bays and cabins," Weyoun said, typing frantically, "That should give us a little more time."

"Chakotay, I can avoid the torpedos or the mines, but not both." Geron slammed the ship hard to port, his legs swinging in reaction. "They're peppering the whole area with the damn things!"

A pattern suddenly leaped out at Chakotay from the viewscreen schematic. "Greg, I need you to fire three of our torpedos, here, here and here." He sketched a triangle in the midst of the mines. "Weyoun, as soon as they're released, reverse the polarity on the shields. Geron, take us away from the mines, full impulse. Don't worry about the torpedos. We should be able to handle a few more hits."

The three men's movements synchronized like a fine ballet as they followed orders. Explosions blossomed from the points hit by the DreamCatcher's missles, expanding to catch the cloaked ship in the edges of the destructive field.

All four men stared in stupefaction at the viewscreen as the badly damaged vessel was finally revealed. They all recognized the squat shape of a Defiant-class vessel. An unmistakably Federation vessel.

============================

PART THREE

Chakotay dropped his gaze from the viewscreen back to the sensors. His face was grim. "Status report."

"All systems have returned to optimal levels. No damage sustained." Weyoun surreptitiously gave the Engineering console a little pat in gratitude.

"Confirming Defiant-Class vessel with shields, weapons and cloak down. Life support and hull integrity OK." Ayala popped his restraints with a satisfied sigh.

"Their propulsion systems are damaged. They're venting plasma, but the warp core looks secure." Chakotay looked up at the ship hanging dead in space, then turned toward the back of the bridge. "Weyoun, open a channel, audio only."

When Weyoun had nodded, Chakotay said, "Unidentified vessel, this is Chakotay of the independent freighter DreamCatcher. Do you require assistance, and why the *hell* did you fire on my ship?"

Silence reigned as the men waited in vain for a response.

"It looks like they did receive the message, they're just not responding." Weyoun accessed a database. "I'm not reading any registry for this particular ship." He looked at his companions. "It's clearly not new, so why doesn't it show up in these files?"

"Section 31." Ayala surmised, his features hardening along with his voice.

"I thought all that 'secret agent, government assassins, cloak and dagger' stuff was just a 'Fleet myth." Geron turned to a questioning gaze to his lover.

"No, not a myth, just a dirty little Federation secret," he replied. Ayala looked at Chakotay. "If it is 31, we don't have much time."

Weyoun had moved forward to hover near Chakotay, and the older man reached out for the Vorta's hand, stilling the pale fidgeting fingers with a comforting squeeze. When the Vorta had relaxed beside him, he turned back toward the sensor readout and pulled up the transporter controls. "Let's find someone who'll give us some answers." 

He looked at the lifesigns. "I'm going to bet the person at the center of the bridge is the captain, or close enough." He typed in a command. "Transport complete." He stood and began walking with Weyoun to the exit. "We're going to have a little chat with our new guest."

Ayala called after them, "Any orders, Cap?"

Chakotay paused by the door. "I don't think they'll be contacting us to lodge a complaint. Make sure none of the lifesigns suddenly disappear. Keep a sharp eye on their power levels. If it looks like they've been able to bring anything on-line, let me know. We'll be in Sickbay."

"Sickbay?" Geron asked.

"Yes," Chakotay said with a wicked glint in his eye, "the DreamCatcher's former owner had a very interesting way of making sure people coming aboard weren't hiding anything."

*************

A gray mouse of a man stood stark naked in a small, bare alcove behind a forcefield in Sickbay. The DreamCatcher's special transporter (another innovation courtesy of the Ferengi) had scanned him while he was in the pattern buffer, and withheld everything that did not match his DNA. It also performed a check for any harmful germs or viral agents. The process was the equivalent of a *very* thorough strip, cavity and X-ray search, combined with a complete decontamination.

The prisoner did not seem to appreciate the system's efficiency as he clasped his hands in front of him and glared at the opening door.

Chakotay glided to a stop a few steps away from the energy barrier and regarded the man trapped within. He could sense a cunning mind and calm determination behind the bland facade. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Does it matter? Return my clothes or at least toss me a robe or something, damn it." The tone suggested irritation rather than anger, surprising Chakotay. He walked to a panel nearby and tapped a few keys, causing a shift to shimmer into existence at the man's feet. 

The prisoner pulled on the shapeless garment and seemed to relax, walking over to lean against a wall and run his eye over his captors. "I must congratulate you, Commander. It seems your tactical expertise was not exaggerated."

"If you've read my record you know I haven't held that title for months," Chakotay replied. "What exactly is going on here? Why is Section 31 firing on my ship?"

The mention of the secret Federation organization didn't faze the man. "It's not you we're after, exactly. This ship just happens to be carrying something we want." His calm gaze shifted to the silent Vorta. "Or should I say, someone."

"Me?" Weyoun's face scrunched up in puzzlement. "The Dominion is gone. What would the Federation want with me now?"

"And more importantly, how did you find out about him?" Chakotay moved closer to the forcefield, instinctively shielding his companion.

The barefoot man shrugged. "The Vorta was the Dominion's Ambassador, then their Enforcer once the gloves came off. Quite a few people are still unhappy about that." 

"Bullshit." Chakotay shot back. "If that were true we would have had clear sailing to Bajor, probably right into the Enterprise's tractor beam. There would have been a warrant and plenty of media present for the capture. Followed of course by 'The Trial of the Century'." 

Chakotay's voice grew soft with menace. "You wanted him out of the way. Permanently. Why?" The threat to Weyoun had resurrected a menacing part of Chakotay he thought he'd left behind in the Delta Quadrant.

Weyoun could feel the tension radiating off his companion. He laid a hand on one shoulder in reassurance, then addressed the agent. "I was trying to *help* the Federation. I mean, my previous self was...it's all still kind of hazy, but I know I was with the Federation's Founder, Odo. I was in a ship, but I was also on the viewscreen." 

He moved away to roamed through Sickbay. "I...I was ordered to activate my termination implant or the other Weyoun would have hurt Odo." Confusion swam in the sea-colored eyes as they sought Chakotay's face. "I remember dying in Odo's arms, but I *don't* remember giving the suicide order. That can't be right." 

He walked back to the prisoner. "The cloning process is set up to transfer all memory engrams with the genetic material. I should remember more if the other clone survived past that point in time."

Chakotay's expression softened as he laid reassuring hands on the Vorta's shoulders. "We'll figure it out." 

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a speculative expression crossing his prisoner's face as the man moved away from the cell wall. Keeping one hand on Weyoun, Chakotay turned back to the forcefield. "You have something to contribute?"

"Maybe." The man was staring intently at Weyoun, trying to gauge the alien's sincerity. He nodded to himself, satisfied. "You really don't recognize me, do you?"

Weyoun frowned, then shook his head. "No, we've never met."

"And you don't remember the Cardassian revolution, or dying at Garak's hand?"

Weyoun shook his head. "I was killed by Terek Nor's---Deep Space Nine's *tailor*?"

"He's rather more than that," the prisoner said dryly as he returned to his spot against the wall. "Weyoun---what we thought was the last Weyoun---was also quite a fine tactician. There was a real chance the Federation could have fallen. We...happened to learn that part of his plans involved acquiring some very special computer codes, ones that unfortunately would give their owner command access to any vessel built at the Utopia Planitia shipyards."

"All of the big 'Fleet ships come from there, including the Enterprise-E." Chakotay mused.

"Yes, as well as many of our experimental craft." The agent's slow steps measured his limited floor space. "I was one of the people sent to neutralize the threat after we realized security had been compromised. I failed." He approached the forcefield. "We couldn't let those codes be used. Most of the computers are clean now, but not all. So when we heard Weyoun was still alive, the termination order was reissued."

He paused and looked at Weyoun. "You didn't flinch when you first saw me. I got close enough to killing you that there should have been some reaction."

Chakotay was lost in thought a moment, then turned to Weyoun. "You were in stasis when I found you. Would that have affected the memory transfer?"

Weyoun considered. "Maybe. Each new clone is created partly using their predecessor's DNA. If I was already---" he made a vague gesture "---finished and in stasis when Garak killed the other Weyoun, there would have been no way for me to incorporate his memories." 

Chakotay turned to the agent. "If you believe he doesn't know anything, there's no reason to kill him, right?"

The gray-haired man shrugged. "I've been given discretion in this matter." He moved to stand in the center of the alcove. "If you send me back to my ship, we won't be bothering you again."

Chakotay's eyes narrowed. "You've been awfully free with your information. And I didn't think Section 31 was known for being so accommodating. Why should we trust you?"

The man returned to the barrier and met both sets of eyes with a level stare. "No matter what you think, even *my* stomach turns at the murder of an innocent. I don't think your friend is here to resurrect the Dominion. And I know your reputation, Chakotay. You were an enemy of the Cardassians, not the Federation. I can trust you to keep us safe." 

He gave a small smile. "Besides, the few remaining at-risk ships are being sent on deep-space missions as a precaution. In a week or so, the threat will no longer exist."

Chakotay sighed and looked at Weyoun. "I think we have to take him at his word."

The Vorta nodded. "We certainly can't keep him prisoner." He approached the forcefield. His eyes were serious as they bore into the agent's. "Promise me that if you do consider me a threat that no one else will be hurt. No more firing on ships just because I'm a passenger."

The Section 31 officer gave the Vorta a surprisingly warm smile. "I promise that no Federation force---even the unofficial ones---will be going after you or anyone with you. I'll even arrange for Federation citizenship by the time you reach Bajor." 

Weyoun offered a shy smile in return and a soft "Thank you."

The agent blinked. He cleared his throat and briskly moved to the center of the alcove. "Yes...Well, now, if you'd be so kind as to send me back to my ship. I'd like to see how they're doing with repairs."

Chakotay walked over to the console and began typing. "If you take off the shift I'll send all of your 'equipment' back with you, including your uniform." He looked up, struck by a thought. "But first, how *did* you find out about us? Was it my comm traffic or," he swallowed, "were we betrayed?"

The agent snorted. "We may have managed to reconstruct your comm signals, but we still haven't gotten past the encryption." 

He seemed to deliberate, then continued. "We received some anonymous transmissions. I don't know who turned on you, but they told us exactly where you'd be and got my bosses to order me to shoot first---and not bother asking questions at all. You'd better watch your step."

Chakotay nodded in farewell. "Thank you," he said, and then the naked agent was gone in the swirl of the transporter.

Weyoun looked at Chakotay. "What now?"

Chakotay spread his hands. "The only thing I can think of is to meet Ro Laren as planned. Maybe she can help us figure out who tipped off Section 31." His expression turned grim. "And why they betrayed us."

"They betrayed you because of *me,* Chakotay." Weyoun wouldn't be able to say the next words if he was looking into those intense dark eyes, so he dropped his own and continued, "Maybe you should just drop me off somewhere. It would be safer for you and your friends." 

"No." Chakotay stilled his panic with a deep calming breath and swiftly strode over to lift the Vorta's chin. He held the sea-spun gaze. "They're your friends as well, Weyoun, and I don't think they're going to agree to abandon you." He tightened his grip on the pale face. "Any more than I will." 

"But---" Weyoun found his protest stopped by a single blunt finger against his mouth. He wondered what would happen if he kissed it.

"No." Chakotay repeated. He felt the warmth of Weyoun's lips under his hand and fought down a fierce desire to taste them with his own. To claim the younger man completely and keep him safe by his side forever. He released Weyoun and stepped back. "Let's go ask Greg and Geron what they want to do."

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Weyoun paced the length of the captain's living room, his thoughts racing faster than his steps. He was torn by conflicting desires: to run away from Chakotay, and to grab hold of him and never let go.

The former Maquis had been right about his crewmates. Geron and Greg were adamant that they all stay together, no matter what risks they faced or what they'd learn. The two men were taking the first watch. Chakotay wanted someone on the bridge at all times, so the two pairs would alternate every eight hours until they reached Bajor. 

The Vorta was glad for some time alone while Chakotay whipped up and stored a few quick meals, some comfort food for a stressful time. He wanted to get his thoughts and feelings straightened out before he set eyes on his roommate again.

Weyoun wanted to keep Chakotay safe, but couldn't bear the thought of leaving him. Joy filled him each time he woke in the beautiful man's arms, and now he wasn't sure he could sleep without Chakotay wrapped around him. 

Was this love? No one among his people could remember what it was like, so long had the Founders denied them even the most elemental of emotional connections. He felt drawn to Chakotay's strength and grace, enchanted by his easy, open smile, hopelessly caught in the warm chocolate pools of his eyes.

But it was more than physical. It was as though somehow in their time together his own well-being had become linked to his rescuer's. Chakotay's happiness lightened his own spirits, and his pain filled Weyoun with a confusing need to comfort and protect.

He stopped and closed his eyes as he acknowledged a fundamental truth: with Chakotay he felt complete. More fulfilled than on any day of any life he'd ever had. Yes, he loved Chakotay. A sense of wonder filled him as he said the words out loud to the empty cabin, savoring every syllable.

Then a frown tightened his face as Weyoun resumed pacing. Should he tell Chakotay of his feelings? Chakotay really hadn't offered any clue to his own, despite how comfortable they'd become with each other. Weyoun wasn't sure he could offer his love not knowing if it was wanted.

No, it wouldn't be fair. Especially if Weyoun's newly awakened protective instincts won out and he disappeared into the night. He would save his avowals of love until the danger was past. 

Weyoun straightened with a new determination. He may not speak of love, but he *would* experience it. Until they were in orbit around Bajor, he would treasure each and every moment with Chakotay. And not just the comfort of his embrace.

Decisions made, he turned on his heel and strode into the bedroom.

***********

Geron idly ran his fingers along the strong face resting in his lap. "Now, isn't this better than me sitting at the Conn and you at the sensors *way* over there?"

Ayala turned his head slightly, silently encouraging the wandering digits to explore his neck. He was comfortably sprawled on his side on the blanket-covered deck, with his head laying across Geron's crossed legs and his eyes on the quartered viewscreen. One section displayed the ship's stats, another the sensor readings, a third the special schematic that had revealed the cloaked ship, and the last the stars streaking past as the DreamCatcher sped toward Bajor. He gave a contented sigh and claimed one of Geron's stroking hands. He kissed the back, then the palm. "I freely admit it, you're a genius, querido."

Geron blushed as he always did at his lover's praise. His left hand moved to card through curly dark locks. "I'm going to miss the guys during these split shifts, but I'm always glad to get some time alone with you. Besides, maybe some privacy is all the other two need."

"Need to what?" Ayala asked.

"To get together, of course. I've never seen Chakotay look at anyone the way he does our pale friend, and it's clear that Weyoun adores him." He shrugged. "What could be easier? They're already sharing a bed."

Ayala shook his head, temporarily dislodging his lover's fingers. "You forgot what's sharing that mattress with them. Chakotay's sense of honor. He'll never make the first move, no matter how much he wants, or even loves Weyoun."

"But that doesn't make any sense. What does honor have to do with anything?"

"Probably he thinks it wouldn't be right, Tem. Chakotay would never take advantage of an innocent, and that's exactly what Weyoun is. The reason they're as close as they are now is probably because Chakotay's feeling so much he can't help himself. But he won't take that next step so soon. He may not even do anything after this is all over." Ayala frowned, thinking aloud. "Yeah, he'll probably let Weyoun go so he can experience life on his own, even date other people. Keeping a careful eye on him of course, but just as a friend." 

He shifted to meet the dark eyes above him. "And then, when he's *finally* sure that Weyoun would be with him by choice and not out of gratitude, he'll let himself admit he's in love." Ayala gave a wistful, reminiscent smile. "I can understand how Chakotay feels. It was the same with you and me." 

He reached up to stroke his lover's soft cheek. His voice was husky. "You meant way too much for me to take the risk of screwing it up. I had to be sure that you really wanted me, you didn't just think you owed us something because we'd gotten you out of that camp."

"I remember." Geron fondly tweaked his lover's nose. "Silly man. If it was just gratitude I'd have gone after Chakotay. He *is* the one who rescued me." His eyes roamed tenderly over the face below him. "It was always you, Greg. No matter who else was around, my world was empty until you walked into the room." 

Ayala whispered, "I love you, Tem." They kissed, long and slow and deep.

When they broke for air, Ayala lifted himself up and knelt on the blanket as Geron mirrored his position with a puzzled expression. He waited as Ayala claimed both of his hands.

Ayala cleared his throat nervously. "When we get to Bajor, what's say we round up a Vedek and make this official?"

Geron's eyes lit with love and a gentle teasing. "You're proposing? Hmm...I'm not sure," he drawled. "I'm quite a catch, you know."

Ayala seized his lover in a tight embrace. "Well *I've* caught you," he growled, "and I'm not letting you go anytime soon."

Geron laughed and turned to face the viewscreen again, settling against Ayala's chest. "I'm sure you'll manage to persuade me to say yes soon enough." He rested his hands on the arms enfolding him. "I just hope Weyoun can do the same." The two men fell silent as they contemplated the ship and the stars.

*************

Chakotay noted the empty living area as he walked into his cabin. He quietly moved toward the bedroom, figuring that Weyoun was already asleep.

He'd spent his time in the kitchen sternly reminding himself of the reasons for not becoming intimate with Weyoun. They were very good reasons, but for the first time in his life Chakotay struggled to do the right thing. His attraction was as impossible to fight as the tide. The instant Chakotay would lay eyes on Weyoun he was drawn to stand near. Honestly, to touch Weyoun, kiss him, enfold him, and never release him from the embrace. To love and cherish him. For the most part, Chakotay had managed to keep his hands to himself. But it was a very near thing. Perhaps they *should* have separate rooms.

Chakotay paused in the bedroom doorway, fighting to keep his distance as he spied Weyoun curled up in Chakotay's robe on top of the covers. Pale skin still dewy from a just-finished shower or bath.

Weyoun looked up as he heard the door and locked eyes with Chakotay. He felt himself sinking into those dark pools that he hoped held the heat of desire as well as the warmth of affection. Never breaking the stare he slowly stood and walked over to the frozen man.

Chakotay was caught in the pull of those sea-spun eyes, drowning in the emotions he saw glimmering in their depths. The litany of anti-relationship warnings he'd been chanting just moments before were becoming murky and indistinct as he was flooded by a sudden rush of tenderness and desire. He opened his mouth to speak, to try and break the spell, but was stopped by a single pale finger against his lips.

Weyoun dropped his eyes to focus on that lush mouth. He desperately wanted to know its texture, taste, the heat of its breath against his skin. He gathered his courage and again met Chakotay's eyes. His voice was quiet, but absolutely sure. "You think I can't know what I want." 

His lips gave a wry twist. "That I'm too young and innocent to possibly be sure of how I feel. But I have been alive far longer than you, and I have met thousands of people in the course of those lifetimes."

Weyoun slowly ran his fingertip along that carved portal, following the delicate curves of the upper lip and the fullness of the lower. His expression turned serious and his voice trembled with intensity. "No one has affected me the way you do. When I'm with you, I'm not the Founders' slave or the Dominion's butcher. I'm the man you found in that stasis chamber, the one you've opened your home and your life to." 

His hand stilled. "You make me believe that right here, right now, is all that matters. Please, Chakotay. Touch me. Make me real, so I'll never doubt who I am again."

Chakotay helplessly surrendered to the siren call of those tear-filled eyes, the words that struck to his soul. He yielded with a quiet groan and pressed a kiss to the fingertip still resting on his mouth. Then he gently removed the restraining hand and brought both of his own up to lightly grip the back of Weyoun's neck, his thumbs delicately brushing the place where Weyoun's ridges flowed into the smooth line of his jaw.

His voice held the fierceness of a vow. "Know this: your life is your own. It doesn't matter if the others shared your face and name, you're no more responsible for them than you would be for the actions of a brother." His eyes closed as he pressed butterfly kisses along the snow-white forehead and cheeks and down the regal nose. 

He drew back far enough to meet Weyoun's eyes. "No matter what the future holds, Weyoun, you are a treasure I will always be grateful to have found." Then Chakotay let himself feel the desire that he'd kept in check since Altos IV. The men were the same height, so he leaned in to set his lips against the soft mouth that had never known another's touch.

Weyoun was stunned by the sudden heat in Chakotay's gaze. He froze with anticipation and uncertainty. His eyes drifted shut, heightening the feelings: the warm hands gently cradling his head and that soft, soft mouth brushing, then pressing against him.

Chakotay lightly traced his tongue along the seam of Weyoun's lips, giving a soft sigh as they parted to welcome him. He ventured cautiously into the wet heat, slowly stroking Weyoun's palate, entwining their tongues in a lazy dance, tasting the sweetness of his lover's essence.

Weyoun moaned and dropped his head back, unconsciously offering himself to those tantalizing lips. He felt Chakotay's hands twine themselves in his hair, holding him still while a hot mouth traveled over his skin. He felt kisses pressed along his jawline, then the tip of Chakotay's tongue exploring each hollow in the ridges that framed his face. The sensations were indescribable, sending electric pulses sparking along his nerves and blood pooling in his groin. He moaned again.

Chakotay moved his hands to trace the path along the ridges he'd just tasted as his mouth moved to the snowy throat, kissing, licking, then lightly biting the sweet flesh. He felt Weyoun's hands clenching against his chest, fingers twisting fabric as Weyoun shuddered in reaction. Chakotay felt himself at the edge of his control. He drew back and waited until a dazed blue-green gaze met his own. "Are you sure?" he asked in a husky whisper.

Weyoun smiled tenderly at the anxious expression on Chakotay's face. He laid a hand against a high-boned cheek, then pressed a firm kiss on his lover's lips. "Very sure," he said as he reached for the knot in the belt of his robe.

"Wait." Chakotay stilled the delicate fingers, then took a step back and began to unbutton his shirt. He smiled at the sudden interest as he stripped, then stepped from the pile of clothes soon puddled at his feet.

Weyoun swallowed and nervously fiddled with the cloth still covering him. As his vision filled with Chakotay's body once more, he felt a sudden frisson of fear. Though he'd never known anything but gentleness at this man's hands, could he be trusted not to use that obvious strength to overwhelm Weyoun in the heat of passion?

Chakotay saw the uncertainty reflected in the vulnerable face before him. He reclaimed Weyoun's hand and laid it against his own heart. "I swear to you, my treasure, I will never hurt you. Please, trust me." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Touch me."

Weyoun ran tentative hands along Chakotay's body. The warm skin gleamed darkly against his own, and was softer than any material he'd ever felt. He traced the muscles of Chakotay's chest and abdomen, then slid around to stroke up to Chakotay's nape and back down to cover the rounded buttocks. 

His fingers gained confidence as he explored Chakotay's thighs, then moved to their juncture. He brushed through the dark hairs surrounding the rose-tipped cock, enchanted by the softness of the hair and the silky hardness of the shaft. And through it all Chakotay remained absolutely still, the darkening of his eyes and the faint shivering of his limbs the only hints of his struggle to stay quiet under his lover's explorations.

Weyoun looked into Chakotay's face and recognized affection as well as desire. He felt the tension in his gut unknot even as he untied his belt and slid the robe off his shoulders. He grabbed Chakotay's hands, bringing them to rest against his own chest in invitation. He caught his breath as Chakotay offered a dazzling, tender smile, then leaned over and swung Weyoun up into powerful arms. After three steps nestled against Chakotay's body Weyoun felt the coverlet at his back.

Chakotay straightened, drinking in the work of art below him. Weyoun's white skin stood out in bold relief against the dark green cover. After taking a deep breath to regain some measure of calm, Chakotay knelt on the matress at the foot of the bed. 

To Weyoun's startlement, Chakotay began stroking Weyoun's feet and ankles, running his fingers lightly over the bones. As his hands moved to follow the curve of the pale calves and tickle behind Weyoun's knees, his lips descended to follow the trail his fingers had blazed.

Weyoun was panting and making small noises even he couldn't define as Chakotay moved up to encase his thighs with those capable hands. He felt them shift to grip his hips as lips---and now a silky, maddening tongue---played over his flesh. He held his breath as Chakotay's head moved higher.

Chakotay was trying to decide what to call the sounds he was hearing, something between a sob and a sigh. Then an unmistakable grunt of frustration as he bypassed the mauve-tinged cock and instead levered up to lap at the white shoulders. He traced the muscles of each arm with his hands, then continued to catalog Weyoun's different flavors as he moved down the slender limbs to the delicate fingers. He sucked each one, admiring their graceful length.

Weyoun felt gentle hands spread his arms and legs, then the heat of Chakotay's body hovering above. He lifted his arms to run his hands over the bronze shoulders and scratch lightly down the muscled back, feeling Chakotay quiver against him in reaction. 

Chakotay thought Weyoun's smile was just a bit too self-satisfied, so he captured a tempting lower lip between his own, giving the impudent curve a light tug and nip. Pleased when the passionate haze returned to the aqua eyes accompanied by a startled gasp, Chakotay returned his focus to the expanse of snowy torso he had yet to explore. The mauve nipples were already hard points, so he lowered his own chest to feel them brush against his skin, releasing his own moan of pleasure.

Weyoun felt that powerful chest reverberate against his own and lifted himself slightly, hoping closer contact would relieve the tension he could feel building. He made a sound of disappointment when Chakotay slid away slightly, then a louder one of approval when that talented mouth began exploring the muscles of his chest. 

Weyoun wove his fingers into his lover's silky hair and felt himself tense as the head beneath his hands moved to one of the burning points on his chest. His nipples felt tight, unfamiliar, and his whole body seemed to be anticipating the next sensation. When it came---a gentle nuzzling followed by a thorough lick and then a shocking, decisive bite---Weyoun almost screamed at the pleasure. A cool breath on the tingling, pebbled skin sent uncontrollable shudders down his frame as his groin tightened even further. 

Chakotay had never had such a responsive lover. Even as he made his way to the other side of Weyoun's chest, he knew he couldn't linger much longer or the slow build of pleasure would cross the line into frustrated pain. After ministering to the neglected nipple, Chakotay left his hands to tweak and play with both nubs as his mouth moved south. He briefly but thoroughly covered the expanse of white skin leading to Weyoun's throbbing, leaking cock. He sampled the balls beneath first, marveling at the unusual texture of their completely hairless, smooth sac. Then he licked his lips in anticipation and eyed his final destination.

Weyoun felt like a wire stretched taut between two poles: desire and anxiety. His whole body thrummed as he watched Chakotay's lips open as they neared his weeping shaft. Weyoun dropped his hands to take a desperate grip on the coverlet---otherwise he'd be digging furrows into Chakotay's smooth flesh. The hands tormenting his nipples left as Chakotay braced his elbows on the mattress and focused on his lover's center of desire.

Weyoun's head fell back and he closed his eyes, wanting to concentrate on his sense of touch. Chakotay's tongue lapped at the precum beading the head of Weyoun's cock, digging strongly into the slit. Weyoun groaned and instinctively thrust up, seeking greater contact. Lips wrapped around the base, slowly sucking up one side then nibbling down the other.

When Chakotay finally took Weyoun's cock fully into his mouth, Weyoun imagined somehow sinking into a pool of melted chocolate: being submerged and surrounded by the confection's warm, clinging, sliding silk. He was desperate to finish and grabbed Chakotay's head to hold it in place above him, thrusting into the wet warmth that welcomed him.

Chakotay recognized a man on the edge, so he relaxed and let Weyoun fuck his mouth with abandon. Each time Weyoun started his withdrawal Chakotay sucked, increasing his grip on the retreating organ, then loosening to let his lover go as deep as he wanted. His hands slid to cup the flexing buttocks, not to control events but to increase the feeling of connection. He was hard put not to push into the mattress himself to relieve the pressure of his own erection as he watched the gleaming form beneath him writhe and toward orgasm.

Weyoun knew *something* had to happen as the tension became overwhelming. He felt his balls draw up tight to his body as he thrust once more, then gasped at the sudden explosion of feeling. His vision sparkled with stars as blood pounded in his veins and fluid gushed in a heated stream out of his cock and down Chakotay's throat. He seemed to hang forever in that exquisite moment of release, then sank back onto the bed, sweaty and boneless and utterly replete. 

Chakotay swallowed Weyoun's release, liking the sweet, alien flavor. He licked the spent organ clean, then pressed a quick trail of kisses up the supine body until the men were again face to face. He tenderly stroked Weyoun's curly locks, now slightly less springy as if they too needed a bit of a break. 

He smiled, content for the moment to forget his own needs and bask in the contentment he felt at bringing his lover---no, he admitted to himself, his beloved---the first taste of pleasure.

Weyoun floated in the aftermath of bliss as his heartbeat gradually slowed and his breathing calmed. He came back to his senses filled with contentment; he was cradled in Chakotay's arms as gentle hands stroked his hair and face. He was blanketed in the warmth of the body curled against him, lightly pressing him into the bed. 

As Weyoun arched slightly in a satisfied stretch he became aware of Chakotay's erection as his thigh brushed against its heat. He felt Chakotay shudder in response with a moan, lower lip clenched between his teeth.

Weyoun lifted a hand to stroke a thumb against the passion-swollen mouth. The other traveled to Chakotay's shoulder, lazily tracing the muscles curving under silk-soft skin. He felt faint tremors run through the flesh beneath his palms. "What do you want, Chakotay?" he breathed.

Chakotay felt his desire awaken with a vengeance. He wanted to claim Weyoun completely, to connect with him in the most primal of ways. But he couldn't bear to pressure this innocent into doing something he may not be ready for. He gave a small smile and turned his head to kiss the hand resting against his face. "Anything that feels right to you."

Weyoun sensed Chakotay was holding back. He suddenly pushed Chakotay flat on his back and loomed over him, nose to nose. "There's more, isn't there. I want all of it, Chakotay. All of you." He sat up and crossed his arms, eyes blazing. "Show me," he demanded. "Now."

Strangely enough, Weyoun's abrupt command reassured Chakotay. It reminded him that though this body was new, Weyoun was a mature adult who made his own decisions. As much as Weyoun had trusted him, Chakotay had to trust Weyoun to know his own mind. As he sat up his eyes rekindled, raking the snowy, flawless skin. "Are you sure?" he rasped.

In response, Weyoun sank his hands into the straight dark hair. "Make love to me, Chakotay," he said and kissed him.

Chakotay moaned as Weyoun's tongue clumsily but enthusiastically plundered his mouth. His own arms reached to enfold as he rolled to lay down and fully cover his lover's slender form. The two men mingled breaths as they spent long minutes exploring each other's mouths. 

Then Chakotay pulled away to fumble in a bedside drawer. Pulling out a bottle of massage oil, he returned to kneel between Weyoun's spread legs. Serious brown eyes met newly aroused blue-green. "I'm going to go as slowly as I can. Let me know if you need me to stop."

Weyoun nodded and lay back, resting on his elbows as he watched Chakotay arrange Weyoun's legs, then open the oil and spread some on his own cock.

Chakotay liberally coated his fingers with oil and careful stroked Weyoun's cleft. He probed gently, seeking. He traced a finger around Weyoun's opening, watching Weyoun's face for any sign of discomfort as he slowly pushed in. He saw the aqua eyes lose focus in response to what must be new sensations. Chakotay withdrew and coated two fingers, returning to the tight, hot passage. At three fingers he burrowed in a little deeper, hoping that Vortas were not too dissimilar to humans. He didn't think he could go through with their joining if Weyoun was incapable of sharing in the pleasure.

Weyoun gave a sudden yelp as a surge of feeling shot up his spine. He felt like his hair stood on end, so powerful was the feeling. "What was that?" he panted and felt his cock stir once more.

Chakotay's wide smile radiated passion, tenderness and profound relief. "In humans, it's called a prostate gland." Lubricant was pushed in with four fingers as he stroked that special spot again, delighted to feel Weyoun rising to meet his hand. He pulled out to his lover's groan and cradled the slim hips a moment. Then he took lifted each pale leg over his shoulders. He placed his cock at Weyoun's opening. "Look at me, Weyoun."

Weyoun locked his eyes on the tense face as he felt Chakotay's cock begin to enter him. A faint burning accompanied the breach, but that soon faded in the rise of desire. He felt his lover push forward slightly, then pull back, moving further in on each stroke. Bringing fullness and a sense of connection. 

Chakotay slid deeper into the tight heat, stopping when his pelvis rested against Weyoun's ass. He took a few deep breaths, trying to give his lover a moment to get used to being filled. "You OK?"

That stretched-wire feeling was starting again. Weyoun knew he needed more than words to answer his still-hesitant lover. He lay down and used his arms for leverage in a thrust that sent the shaft inside him bumping against that special spot. "More!" he commanded as lightning struck again.

That push seemed to drop a final barrier in Chakotay. Tightly gripping Weyoun's hips, he thrust into the heated channel clenching around his cock. As his lover continued to meet each stroke, he plunged faster and harder, listening to Weyoun's moans. One hand desperately grabbed the leaking cock bobbing in front of him, fisting it in time with his movements. 

Weyoun felt touched to his soul. He was merging with Chakotay: seared by his heat, surrounded by his scent, filled with his passion. He craved the flood of Chakotay's cum, to have his lover's essence absorbed deep into his own body. He felt as wild as the dark eyes that glittered above. The tension inside him built and built until finally the wire snapped. He threw back his head with a groan as his orgasm rocketed through him.

Chakotay felt the cock in his hand erupt as the channel sheathing him clamped down, drawing him into his own growl of release. He frantically plunged forward, emptying himself into that taut pale body. He barely had the presence of mind to release Weyoun's legs and brace himself as he fell forward. He pressed his sweat-beaded forehead into the pale neck, feeling the frantic pulse beating in time with his own. They both shook with the aftermath. 

After a few minutes, Chakotay raised his head and looked into hazy pools of satiation. In that moment he wanted to offer his heart, his home, his hand in marriage. Instead, he reminded himself that making love was very different than being in love. He couldn't force his feelings on Weyoun; the man needed time and freedom to find his own way, hopefully to Chakotay's side. And questions of the past had to be settled before tackling the future. He searched Weyoun's face. "You OK?" he asked again.

Weyoun had a not-so-surprising sense of deja vu. He stayed silent as he debated answering "Yes, if you're giving me your heart as well as your body." or "No, not until you promise to be mine forever." He finally decided on an impudent grin and his answer from earlier. "More."

Chakotay looked stunned, then his eyes narrowed as he watched those quirking lips stretch into a sudden yawn. "Yeah right," he replied. When the mouth finally closed, he pressed a kiss against it, then rubbed noses. "Don't go anywhere" he said as he lifted himself from the bed.

"Yeah right," Weyoun echoed as he turned to watch Chakotay stride toward the bathroom. He was equally impressed with his lover's back view, especially the rounded buttocks that shifted slightly with each step. 

He lay back down as his lover passed out of his line of sight. He stared at the molded ceiling, feeling as though he had truly been reborn. He was unique among his people: a clone who had experienced sex, whose soul had been touched by love. Weyoun was still in awe.

When Chakotay approached the bed with a warm wet towel he realized Weyoun had fallen asleep. The only response to Chakotay's ministrations was a contented sigh. Fortunately, Weyoun's body showed no signs of damage from their passionate encounter. He couldn't bear to hurt this treasure entrusted to him.

Chakotay threw the used towel back toward the bathroom, then gently lifted the slender form to toss back the bedcovers. He laid Weyoun back down, then walked around the bed to settle beside him. He threw an arm around his lover's waist and let himself drift off to the land of dreams.

===================

CONCLUSION

Caring. Tenderness. Love. His nostrils filled with the sweet-spice scent of his bedmate as his eyes opened to the dimly lit room. Weyoun felt the arm snug around his torso, and Chakotay's soft breaths against the back of his neck. 

He smiled as he thought of yesterday. The men had awakened barely in time for quick sonic showers and a hasty meal before relieving Ayala and Geron. Weyoun blushed at the memory of the speculative expressions in both sets of dark eyes. The quartet had spent a pleasant hour on the bridge together before Chakotay and he were left alone to monitor the DreamCatcher's systems. 

They'd taken advantage of the blanket and Geron's ingenuity to spend their time sitting together, sharing stories of the past. Weyoun had been hesitant to talk about his work for the Dominion, but Chakotay's understanding expression had given him the courage to be honest about what he---or, as Chakotay insisted---what his other clones had done. In truth, he had come to accept that distinction in his own mind, since he felt no real ambitions for power or conquest. He also never thought of the Ever-Changing---his gods, the Founders---anymore. Now, the only image he got when he thought of "serving" or "worshipping" was that of Chakotay spread out like a banquet, garnished with chocolate and a bit of whipped cream.

He felt his cock stir slightly at the image, and decided to help it along by remembering their encounter in the bathroom before bed. Although they'd been warned by their friends, both Chakotay and Weyoun were surprised at how tired they were after the quiet shift on the bridge. The tension and constant checks for more unseen enemies had been draining.

When Geron and Ayala relieved them (sporting matching secretive, yet satisfied smiles), Weyoun and Chakotay had quickly devoured bowls of soup and stumbled off to bed. They'd just finished brushing their teeth side by side at the double sink when Chakotay pulled Weyoun into a deep, hot kiss. It had awakened both their libidos as erections ground against each other through layers of cloth. Without breaking the kiss, the two men had quickly undressed each other. When the final garments dropped free, Chakotay dragged them both into the shower stall. They were soon surrounded by a rush of warm water.

When Weyoun opened his mouth to ask what they were doing Chakotay silenced him with another soul-searing kiss. He thrust against Weyoun, who gasped at the slick friction as their cocks finally met. Weyoun soon caught Chakotay's rhythm and the two men moved together, mouths still locked and hands roaming over wet skin. They climaxed as one and let the water wash away the evidence.

Weyoun's eyes grew dreamy as he remembered a gentle rubdown at Chakotay's hands before they settled into bed in their usual position: Weyoun on his side and Chakotay spooned behind him, a protective arm about his middle. 

The position they were in now, in fact. Weyoun slowly turned to face his companion, trying not to jar the other man from his sleep. Weyoun looked at his lover's face, then ever so lightly ran a finger down the bold nose, grazing the lips on its way to the slight cleft in the chin. The same gentle brush brought him up over a cheekbone to that fascinating tattoo. Weyoun culdn't resist; he began tracing the blue lines, occasionally brushing aside strands of mussed raven hair.

Chakotay woke halfway through the pattern but lay quiet, staring at the beloved face shining moon-white in the dimness. In a few hours they would be on Bajor. If Ro Laren could clear up the mystery of Weyoun's existence, there would be nothing left to hold Weyoun at Chakotay's side. Weyoun needed to establish his own life, become aware of all his potential, all of his options. Even for love. A stab of grief shot through Chakotay, but he breathed through it and vowed he would not be so greedy as to lock this treasure away, no matter how much he wanted to.

Weyoun reached the end of the indigo lines and was a little startled to see Chakotay's eyes open beneath them. He promptly dove into those deep brown pools, letting the feelings of love and desire flood him as they always did at the sight of Chakotay. In his own mind, at least, his future husband. But even if---when---he found his unknown enemy, Weyoun didn't want to come to their relationship with nothing. His lover had shared so much so freely, Weyoun was desperate to show he could contribute something as well. As soon as all the questions were settled he would begin a job search, then look for a home base. When he could prove himself an equal partner, he would marry Chakotay. Claim him. That thought made his eyes grow smoky with desire as he leaned forward to kiss the full lips beneath him.

Chakotay opened his mouth immediately, inviting Weyoun to take what he wanted. How would he cope if Weyoun abandoned him on the way to a new life? His soul ached at the thought of an empty ship, empty cabin, empty bed, empty arms, empty heart. He reached up to wrap around the slender figure half on top of him. He needed to be filled, to have a memory at least to hold on to. He broke off their kiss to look into that desire-flushed face. "I want you to take me, Weyoun," he said softly.

Weyoun reared back, surprised at the parallel tracks of their thoughts. He stammered a little nervously. "I-I've made love *one* time, Chakotay. You know that; you were there. I can't---"

"Of course you can." Chakotay's voice was firm. "You do what I did, and let instinct do the rest." His expression turned shy. "The only question is if you want to."

"Oh, I want to," Weyoun breathed, descending again on those soft lips. He sucked and nipped at them briefly, then sent his mouth and hands exploring Chakotay's powerful form. He covered every inch of throat and collarbone with kisses, then small bites, all the while breathing in that scent that was uniquely Chakotay. 

His hands shaped the muscles of Chakotay's smooth shoulders, and eventually he descended to experiment on the small dark nipples, warmed by Chakotay's sounds of pleasure and encouragement. 

He threw back the sheets to see all of that smooth satiny skin. His hands ran over meaty thighs and calves while his tongue dipped into an adorable little belly button and drew wet circles around the navel.  
Weyoun felt blood pooling in his own groin as he moved to the rosy aroused cock that seemed to beg for his attention. His tongue lapped a little bit of moisture from the flared head, and he paused to savor the salty taste. Before he could explore further, he felt Chakotay's hands grip his shoulders to haul him back up to eye level.

Chakotay sensed Weyoun's readiness to go down on him, but he was yearning to connect in a different way. He wasn't sure how much time they had. He reached over to the bedside table, then handed Weyoun the bottle of oil. "Ready?" He delighted in the quick nod. "Then just take your time." 

He disentangled their limbs, then flipped over onto his stomach, tucking a pillow beneath his pelvis and spreading his legs around Weyoun's unmoving form. He glanced over his shoulder. "This should be a bit easier---for both of us."

Weyoun swallowed as he slowly ran his eyes down the wide back, over those extravagant globes and along the strong legs. He leaned up to place a kiss on Chakotay's nape, pleased to feel the body beneath him quiver. 

He set aside the oil and placed his hands on each shoulder blade, then ran them down the smooth expanse of skin, thumbs brushing against the spine and nails lightly scraping. When he reached that magnificent ass he felt his erection twitch, as if yearning toward its destination. He squeezed two handfuls of the rounded muscles, then traced the crease at the beginning of each thigh. Chakotay moaned and shuddered under his ministrations. Weyoun let his hands wander underneath to gently comb through soft hair.

"Do it Weyoun." Chakotay breathed, no power behind the words. He was tantalized and tormented by those stroking digits. He definitely wanted to feel them inside his body. He lifted and moved his hips slightly, reminding Weyoun where his focus should be.

Weyoun opened the oil, and with trembling hands lubricated his almost painfully erect shaft. He hissed at the touch of the thick fluid against its heated length. He coated his fingers, then slowly breached Chakotay's anus. The feeling of muscle clamping around him caused his cock to twitch in anticipation once more.

Chakotay was awash in the pleasure wrought by those delicate hands. One hand stroked two, then three fingers in and out of his body, rhythmically grazing his prostate. The other roamed at will over his skin, walking up and down his spine, tracing the flair of his hip, caressing his ass. Chakotay couldn't figure out when he was inhaling, but he knew he must be because he was sending out one long continuous moan. 

Weyoun edged forward on his knees, carefully lining up his erection with the gleaming entrance to his lover's body. He remembered Chakotay's careful, gradual claiming, but he wasn't sure his control would be that good. He gripped the bronze ass with both hands, using his thumbs to expose the loosened portal even more. He wanted to watch his cock disappear into his lover's depths. He felt resistance as the head of his penis made its way past the ring of muscle. He pushed forward only a little, unwilling to cause the man beneath him any pain.

Chakotay felt Weyoun's uncertainty and knew he had to act. He raised himself onto elbows and knees and moved back in one long smooth motion, taking Weyoun's full length inside his body. He gave a satisfied sigh, then waited for his lover to take control once more.

Weyoun was lost in the moment. He'd been a little shocked when Chakotay impaled himself, but also relieved. Now he was in heaven, feeling the small contractions of Chakotay's channel as it tried to close around him. As though Chakotay's body wanted to keep Weyoun bound to it, their flesh forever joined. He broke the moment with a full-body shudder of pleasure, then began to slowly thrust. 

Chakotay began moaning again as Weyoun gained confidence with every stroke, moving harder and deeper each time. Their flesh slapped together in an erotic drumbeat each time Weyoun's forward motion met Chakotay's counterthrust as they drove in tandem. 

Weyoun let one hand grip hard at Chakotay's hip. He leaned forward to cover the body surging back to meet him, licking at the salty sweat on the strong shoulders and back. His other hand moved underneath to tweak Chakotay's nipples, then slowly drift down to grasp his dripping cock.

Chakotay almost lost the rhythm when he felt a hand close around his straining shaft. His moans turned to incoherent pleas that Weyoun immediately answered. Weyoun pistoned even faster into Chakotay's ass, the force driving Chakotay's erection into the blessed friction of Weyoun's fist.

Chakotay felt himself reaching the edge, then sailing over it in a gasping, writhing climax. Even in the haze of release he felt the pulse of Weyoun's cock within as Weyoun emptied himself in a flurry of frantic thrusts. Chakotay clenched his internal muscles, keeping Weyoun's shaft buried as he let his body collapse, bringing both men down to the mattress with a last sigh.

Weyoun still heard the blood pounding through his ear hollows as he limply lay, arms and legs encasing the sated form beneath him. He was still shaking from those last moments, as Chakotay climaxed into his hand and then all around him. His penis was squeezed in its muscular sheath, driving Weyoun to shoot his semen as deeply as possible into his lover's body. He pressed kisses into the damp skin under his lips, then languidly lapped more of the sweat glistening on the broad shoulders.

Chakotay lifted himself slightly, then twisted his torso and sank a hand into Weyoun's hair, touching the pale forehead to his own. "Thank you," he said, then drew back and lost himself in the depths of those sea-bright eyes. Anything else either man might have revealed at that moment was forgotten as the comm system beeped. Chakotay felt Weyoun's cock slip from his body as the men slowly disengaged and struggled to control their breathing. "Chakotay here."

Ayala responded, "Sorry to wake you early, Chakotay, but the DreamCatcher made better time than expected. We'll be in orbit around Bajor in a little more than half an hour. Ayala out."

Both men sighed into the renewed stillness. There was no more time. For words, or decisions, or anything except preparations for the meeting that could forever change their lives.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Ro Laren had lost none of her whipcord strength or sharp-edged beauty. Her no-nonsense verbal style had also remained intact through the years. The chains of the Bajoran's earring jangled with its owner's agitation as she paced. "I can't believe they kept this from me," she growled once more as she turned the corner of the dining-room table.

Chakotay watched Ro gracefully weaving around furniture as anger drove her through the arch to the living room. A fire burned there in a simple stone hearth, adding to the welcoming atmosphere the ex-Maquis had created in her first real home. He smiled to himself as he contrasted all the warm colors and throw pillows with the steely aura his old friend still tried to project. He sobered as his wandering eyes fell upon the padd on the table in front of him. He pulled it forward, even as he tried to soothe Ro's fury. "You've been raging about this off and on for an hour. It's in the past, Ro. They probably didn't tell you because they knew you wouldn't approve."

"I would have done more than disapprove, Chakotay," Ro shot back. "What they did was like abducting a child. By the Prophets, they stole him while he was still being *grown.* They planned to brainwash Weyoun, and dozens like him, to make him think that Michael was that, that---what they called the Founders---Ever-Changing? A god. He would have worshipped Michael Eddington like he was a god. Done anything for him. Died for him. That's worse than slavery, Chakotay." 

Ro's path brought her back to Chakotay's side, her rage finally spent. She sounded bitter and defeated as she sank into the chair next to him. "I couldn't believe it when Rebecca told me. It's no different than the Cardassians with their twisted mind games. Or the Dominion, breeding servants with no will of their own." A sheen of tears glistened. "The Maquis were better than this. *We* were better than this."

Chakotay covered her clenched fists with one hand. He swallowed his own grief and disappointment to offer what comfort he could. "Ro---*Laren,* it's all right. Michael never got to carry out his plan. They used so many resources stealing Weyoun and the technology they didn't have enough left to maintain more than the one chamber." 

He looked down a moment, then made a decision and met Ro's eyes. "I think he changed his mind at the end, Ro. He kept the activation sequence to himself, even after he was captured. He didn't even tell Rebecca. And he stayed behind at Altos IV. Maybe he wanted to try and free Weyoun, but died before he got the chance."

He cleared his throat and chuckled nervously. "Rebecca looked at me like I was crazy when I told her, but here goes." He took a deep breath. "Michael...contacted me. In a dream. That's how I knew to go to the planet. And *he* gave me the activation code---in a vision." 

He spread his hands. "No one imprinted Weyoun during the process, so he awakened without any outside influence. Michael wanted to set things right, Ro. He made me promise to take care of Weyoun."

Ro's eyes revived with a faint twinkle. "And you decided to care for him, all on your own?" She gave her former comrade a knowing grin.

Chakotay felt his whole face heat with a blush. "Am I that obvious?"

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder as her face softened. "I remember how you were with Kurt. So, yeah, it's pretty obvious to me." She dipped her head a little to catch his embarrassed brown eyes. "Why haven't you told Weyoun?"

"I can't, Ro. You're right, I do love him, but he has to make his own decisions. And to do that he needs time, and space." Chakotay sighed. "And no 'outside influence'. If he wants to go his own way, I'll let him."

Ro gave her friend a squeeze and a small smile. "No matter how much it hurts. No wonder Michael chose you. You're too damn noble for your own good."

Chakotay shrugged. "I think it's more likely I'm the only one who wouldn't automatically freak out, seeing a ghost."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think Weyoun couldn't be in better hands. And if he's smart, he'll stay in them." She grinned again. "Of course, if you're lucky, Rebecca's figured it out as well and is grilling Weyoun along with the vegetables." 

Ro took the padd from Chakotay, filled with new determination. "But with or without you, he needs to be safe. Let's look at Rebecca's data again. Maybe this time we'll figure out who set Federation assassins on your tail."

Chakotay nodded grimly. "And why."

*****************

Weyoun angrily shoved clothing into the large duffel bag he'd found in the other room, fiercely blinking back tears. He had originally decided not to come back at all, to just walk away from Ro Laren's house and find a hole to crawl into. But with his mind locked in an endless loop of betrayal and despair, his feet had chosen their own course. The echo from the metal floor jolted him from his mental fog to discover he had arrived in the DreamCatcher's cargo bay.

The day had started out so promisingly. After splitting from Ayala and Geron, who were off on some mysterious errand of their own, Chakotay and he had walked to Ro Laren's charming cottage on the outskirts of town. He'd been introduced to the blunt ex-Maquis and her more subdued guest, Rebecca Eddington.

The widow had apparently received but not answered Chakotay's original message. The sad-eyed woman said she had thought it would be better to speak face-to-face and made her way secretly to Bajor. Even if Chakotay and Ro didn't know any of the secrets surrounding Altos IV, they'd start digging with characteristic tenacity until they exposed everything. Rebecca had decided to simply hand over the information and save everyone from interrogation at the ex-Maquis' hands.

Rebecca had outlined a crazy, ambitious plan by a group of desperate people. Weyoun hadn't known how to react to the knowledge that the supposedly noble freedom fighters had kidnapped him, and had planned to create a whole army of Maquis-worshipping Vorta clones. He'd been grateful to feel the comforting squeeze of Chakotay's hand on his own under the table, and the ready sympathy in his lover's eyes.

The trouble had started when Ro jumped up to rave and pace, going ballistic as the realization of what her comrades had done suddenly sunk in. Weyoun and Rebecca decided to escape to the kitchen to prepare lunch, leaving Chakotay to calm down Ro. Weyoun had gone ahead while Chakotay grabbed a quick word with Rebecca, but she soon arrived to join in chopping a pile of produce.

The conversation began innocently enough on the topic of food. Apparently people really did remember Chakotay's pali nabotash with great fondness. After a discussion of the complex Bajoran dish, they'd shared a comfortable silence until Rebecca broke the quiet with, "Don't worry."

"About what?" Weyoun asked, confused.

"About anything, really. I'm sure we'll figure out who's after you, and even if we don't, Chakotay will make sure nothing happens to you." She confided, "He takes his promises very seriously."

"He hasn't promised me anything," Weyoun said a little wistfully, thinking about his own hopes and plans.

"Well, I'm sure he will soon enough. After all, he's already made the commitment." She slowly shook her head. "That man really is much too noble for his own good."

"*What* are you talking about?" Weyoun spun to face Rebecca, feeling the sick swirl of tension in his stomach.

"Chakotay considers his word his bond. He'll do everything and *anything* he must to keep it, even if he made the promise to a dead man."

Weyoun swallowed. "Who?"

"Michael, of course. Chakotay had a 'vision' that told him where to find you. In it he swore to my husband he would take care of you." She turned back to the vegetables. "My advice is to just relax and let Chakotay handle things. He's probably got everything planned, even a way to keep you safe under his wing. I'm told he can be...very persuasive. Like I said, you have nothing to worry about."

Weyoun's world crashed as he subsituted "under his wing" with "in his bed." He staggered under the weight of knowing all that *loving* concern and tender care had just been part of some grand scheme to keep him at Chakotay's side. Weyoun's lips twisted as he realized the lengths Chakotay had felt driven to just to keep his word. The walls started closing in. He had to get out of there---now. He mumbled some excuse to Rebecca and fled.

Now, Weyoun was barely in control as he hurriedly packed in the cabin where he thought he'd found happiness, fulfillment, love. He felt a jolt as his hands unconsciously closed on the robe laying under the edge of the bag. He lifted it, fingering the soft cloth. He brought it to his nose, inhaling, but Chakotay's scent had long been superseded by his own.

It hit Weyoun then: he'd never wake again surrounded by those strong arms, that wonderfully warm body or sweet-spice scent. Burying his face in the robe, Weyoun sank down on the bed and succumbed to his tears.

******************

Ro and Chakotay wandered into the kitchen, taking a break from their fruitless speculations. He stopped in shock at the sight of the lone figure brushing oil over vegetables. "Where's Weyoun?"

Rebecca looked up from her task. "He said something about hearing so many people mention pali nabotash he wanted to try the dish himself. He went to the market, um, fifteen minutes ago."

"You let him leave *alone?*" Chakotay whirled to face a startled Ro. "Where would he go to get it?"

The Bajoran's brow furrowed in concentration. "There are three farmers' markets around here. Not to mention more than half a dozen shops that carry it. We'd better split up."

Rebecca piped up. "You really think he's in danger?"

Chakotay answered. "We haven't been able to figure out what anyone would gain from hurting Weyoun. Whoever it is could be stalking him right now." He fought down his fear and started issuing orders. "Ro, you know the territory better than us. I know of three shops and a market west of here. I'll cover them. You handle the others. Rebecca---"

"I think I should stay here, in case Weyoun comes back. And I can try contacting Greg and Tem, maybe get them to help with the search."

Ro ducked into the living room and returned to hand Chakotay a phaser. "Sounds like a plan. Let's get moving."

Chakotay nodded worriedly and followed her out the back door, leaving Rebecca in the now silent kitchen.

***************

Weyoun hadn't cried long but his throat and eyes were sore. He got up and stumbled to the bathroom, washing his face and taking a long drink of water. He stared at his reflection a moment, then gathered some toiletries and headed back toward the bed. The items dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers as he saw who awaited him. 

"What the *hell* do you think you're doing?" Chakotay growled, his relief quickly overwhelmed by anger and hidden panic. He still hadn't shaken the sense of impending doom that stopped him in his tracks halfway to the first shop. Obeying his instincts, he'd headed for the DreamCatcher at a run. Only to find Weyoun safe and sound and apparently preparing to leave him. He pulled the phaser from his belt and tossed it on the bed. "Well?" he demanded, hands on hips.

Weyoun swallowed. He'd hoped to never see Chakotay again. He could feel a self-defensive sneer form. "What does it look like? Getting out." 

He swooped down to pick up his things and dumped them in the bag. "You don't have to pretend any more. I release you from all promises." 

His voice was deliberately cutting. "You really should consider switching from writing to acting, Chakotay. Your performance was absolutely flawless." He fell silent as hurt closed his throat.

"What?" Chakotay frowned. "Pretending? Promises? What are you babbling about?" Getting nothing in reply, he moved to the younger man and grabbed him in frustration. "Talk to me!"

The touch of those powerful hands broke Weyoun's silence. He pulled free, moving away with a snarl. "Rebecca explained it to me, Chakotay. How you consider yourself responsible for me because of some crazy dream. That you would do *anything* to make sure I was safe---that I stayed with you." 

He stalked back, practically spitting in the bronze face. "What a pity you thought you had to stoop to sleeping with me. It was so totally unneccessary. Fool that I am, I would have been happy just to share your bed for as long as you'd have me. No pity fucks required!"

Chakotay felt something snap at Weyoun's statement. His fingers again bit into Weyoun's biceps as he punctuated each shout with a shake. "I have *never* pretended with you. You think all our time together was some plan to become your bodyguard?" 

His anger ratcheted higher. "Is that really why you think I made love with you? *Gave myself to you?* It was just part of the service?" He flung the slender form away.

He didn't see the shock in Weyoun's eyes as he dejectedly slumped on the bed, anger spent. "In a way you're right; I did feel responsible at first. Until you showed me you didn't need a guardian. Then I realized I had to let you go to find your own path." His voice faded to a whisper as he stared into space. "Even after I fell in love with you."

Chakotay took a deep breath and faced his lover. "It's obvious you no longer trust me. And I did make a promise that you would be safe. Please, stay aboard the DreamCatcher." 

He stood. "I'll give you the ship. Greg and Tem can help you until you find your own crew. Head through the wormhole, make a home in the Federation, or just keep traveling." He looked away. "Whatever you want to do."

Weyoun felt queasy from the swirl of emotions he'd felt since waking up that morning. He stared at Chakotay, pained by Chakotay's defeated air. He shook his head, trying to make sense of things. 

He'd been so hurt when he thought Chakotay was just pretending. All of his hopes and dreams were wrapped up in the man now avoiding his gaze. Weyoun frowned. Maybe he *did* need to go it alone. He could prove he was able to protect himself, make his own friends, decide his own future.

But...Chakotay loved him. Apparently enough to let him go. And, in the strictest sense, enough to break the promise he'd made. Knowing how important the former Maquis' word was to him, Weyoun almost didn't believe it.

Weyoun looked again at the grief etched on that beloved face. He moved forward and watched as Chakotay braced himself, then turned to meet Weyoun's eyes. The pain dulling the deep brown was too great not to be real. Weyoun felt his spirits lift, soaring higher than he'd ever dreamed. He smiled. "What if what I want to do...is spend my life with you?"

There had been no tension as Chakotay awaited Weyoun's decision. Grief numbed the anxiety as he realized his treasure was lost. He stoically watched Weyoun approach him, then felt confusion rise when he met aqua eyes as dazzling as a sunlit sea. He couldn't believe what he'd heard. "What?"

Weyoun took Chakotay's hand, laying it over his own heart. "I said, 'What if I want to spend my life with you.' You are more important to me than anyone I've ever known. Even the Founders. I trust you, Chakotay. I love you." He clutched the hand laying on his chest. "Can we forget this and start again?"

"No." Weyoun felt his heart seize. Then Chakotay's smile beamed forth. "I want to remember every moment with you."

Both men turned as the bedroom door opened, startled by the sight of Rebecca Eddington pointing an old-fashioned phaser. She stopped, frowning. "You're not supposed to be here, Chakotay. Now step away from the clone."

Chakotay eyed the hopeless distance to his own weapon. He didn't move. "How did you get aboard?" he said quietly.

Rebecca snorted. "I contacted Ayala and suggested he give me a passcode." Her voice turned mocking. "To check if our little lost lamb had found his way home."

Weyoun watched the weapon steadily pointed at them. "No wonder Ro and Chakotay couldn't figure out who betrayed us. You would hardly give them incriminating data." 

He met Rebecca's eyes and flinched at the hint of madness in them. "You contacted Section 31. They fired on your friends because I was aboard. *Why?*"

Rebecca paced around the two men, irritated when Chakotay kept blocking her shots. Her voice was reflective. "I always knew I came second with Michael. That our cause was first in his mind..." She faltered. "In his heart. I could accept being second best, but then *it* came into the picture."

Her eyes sliced through the Vorta. "The clone became his obsession. Michael talked about his plans all the time. How it would be our salvation." She gestured. "I wasn't even second anymore. Maybe fourth. After you, and the plot to get you."

She shifted her grip as the phaser wavered, then firmed. "And when we finally sacrificed so much to get it, what did Michael do? Nothing!" Rebecca's face twisted with anger. "He couldn't 'take advantage of an innocent.' Wouldn't let anyone else imprint it. Sealed it away in a stasis chamber. And never mentioned it again."

Chakotay made sure Weyoun was fully hidden behind him. He'd been watching for an opening, but it seemed Rebecca had also retained her Maquis training. He tried to distract the distraught woman. "It's been a long time, Rebecca. Why now? You could have gone back to Altos IV any day since you left prison."

Her eyes unfocused. "Because being locked away was as good as dead. I wouldn't have to do anything, and when the power finally failed it would just...fade away. I was moving on with my life. Then I hear from you, and it all came back. I knew you'd manage to master the activation sequence, Chakotay. So now this *thing* is alive and Michael's dead. Because he stayed behind---to save it."

She breathed and relaxed into a smug pose. "I had it all planned. Untraceable hints dropped to Section 31. They'd do the job for me. I'll admit I was surprised to learn you'd survived when Ro commed me with word of your meeting. But it gave me the time to come up with a backup plan." 

Her lip curled. "I could see the puppy dog already panting after you, Chakotay. *So* devoted. And then you shared your comforting story. That made things easy. Drop a hint here and a suggestion there, and the betrayed little thing turned tail and ran." 

Rebecca's eyes turned cold. "I didn't think you'd be smart enough to follow, though. Pity. I always liked you, Chakotay."  
She raised the phaser and aimed. "But since you refuse to get out of my way, I'll have to go through you."

Weyoun screamed "No!" and pushed Chakotay hard. Their legs entangled. He could hear phaser fire as both men fell. Then silence.

*********************

Chill. Loneliness. Fear. Chakotay bolted upright, wildly searching. "Weyoun!" he shouted.

A hand gripped his shoulder. Chakotay turned slightly to meet relieved blue-green eyes, then felt himself gathered into a desperate embrace. "You're all right," he breathed as he reached up to caress springy black curls.

Weyoun pressed closer, burying his face in his lover's neck. "I was so afraid I'd lost you, Chakotay." He shuddered.

After some time quietly absorbing each other, Chakotay pushed back and framed the pale face, stroking Weyoun's ridges as he searched for any sign of distress. "Were you hurt? What happened?"

"I think we'd better answer that." Both men jumped slightly at the brisk voice. Ro Laren strode into the room, followed closely by Ayala and Geron. 

They smiled at the sight of a robed Weyoun half sprawled on Chakotay's naked chest.

"You should make up your mind, Weyoun, on or off." Geron teased.

"On," the Vorta retorted, lifting Chakotay's blanket and nudging Chakotay aside. He then graced his audience with an exaggerated stretch and satisfied sigh. They all noticed how serious his eyes were, however, as he gently ran his hands over the bronze skin, reassuring himself that it was whole again.

"Now if you're settled, *children,* I'll start your bedtime story." Ro sobered, approached the pair and laid a gentle hand on Chakotay's shoulder. "Rebecca's dead."

Chakotay stared at her. "How? She was the only one with a phaser."

Geron spoke up, his eyes serious. "Greg and I came back. We thought we'd take the ship up and use the sensors to track down Weyoun. When we realized security and communications were down, we secured the bridge, then started searching cabins. Yours was first in line."

Ayala picked up the story. "I walked in just as she fired. I saw the two of you go down and tackled Rebecca. She was still pushing the fire button when she landed on the phaser." He looked down. "She didn't make it." Ayala leaned into his lover's comforting hug.

Chakotay swallowed and reached for Weyoun's hand. "How badly were we hurt?"

Ro shrugged. "Thanks to this Sickbay, we got to you pretty quickly. Weyoun had a few burns, and you took a serious hit to the chest and shoulder. We kept you under until now to let everything heal."

Chakotay offered a grateful smile, then sobered. "The authorities?"

"Been and gone. Apparently someone in the Federation had filed a report on your troubles even before you arrived." Ro paused. "They took the body. If no one claims it, we'll have the funeral on Bajor."

Everyone nodded and spent a moment remembering a woman whose life ended so tragically. Then Weyoun perked up a little and looked at the standing men. "Maybe it's time for some good news."

"Oh, yeah, now I remember." Ayala snapped his fingers. "Tem and I got married."

"*What*?" Chakotay was stunned. "Just like that?"

Geron smiled. "Yep, just like that. The old man finally came up with a convincing argument." He shared a sizzling look with his new husband. "Very convincing."

"I *don't* want to know." Chakotay said. He looked at Weyoun. "So what do you say, should we offer them the DreamCatcher shuttle service for their honeymoon?"

His expression grew uncertain. "Unless you have other plans?"

"Why are you even bothering to ask? It's not like he has any say in the matter." Geron grinned at four pairs of puzzled eyes. "Now that I've heard the whole story, I'm afraid Weyoun simply *has* to stay with Chakotay. 'Finders, Keepers' after all."

"What do you mean?" Weyoun demanded.

Chakotay gazed at his love. "It's an old saying. It means you don't get a choice. I found you, so I keep you. Forever."

Weyoun pondered that a moment, then gasped in mock horror. "Doesn't that make me a kept man?" His laughing eyes narrowed as he threatened, "You'd better be planning to make me an honest one, Mister."

"We're going to wait a year. Yes, a year," Chakotay held off protest with a raised hand. Then his face softened. "Please, Weyoun. This is so important. Let's take our time."

Weyoun smiled and stroked his lover's cheek. "As long as it's an engagement, not an estrangement, I think I can accept it." He laid back with a casual air, "Besides, we can spend that time looking for a planetside home base. We'll have to do a lot of research: population, technology, climate, culture, taxes, medical facilites, schools, playgrounds..."

"Whoa, wait a minute." Chakotay shook his head. "Playgrounds? What are you talking about?"

Weyoun leaned in to whisper in Chakotay's ear. "Although we haven't used the equipment in centuries, the Vorta are just a little bit different from humans." He settled back with a grin. "I checked. When we're both ready, it'll take just a quick trip to the doctor's. But I insist, *after* the wedding."

Chakotay laughed and hugged his lover. "Are you always going to be so full of surprises, my treasure? I'm not sure I'm going to be able to hold out for the full 12 months."

Weyoun sighed. "It's going to be a wonderful year."

"A wonderful life," Chakotay answered.

They sealed the promise with a kiss.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcomed with great joy and constructive criticism treasured as a rare gift.


End file.
